The Millionth Miracle
by BontaKun117
Summary: Sometimes you have to throw away everything you've earned to set things right. For one Black Knight during the Second Black Knight Uprising, that lesson will prove to be harsher than he could ever have imagined. M for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1: The Day a Demon Awakens

**Code Geass**

**The Millionth Miracle**

BontaKun117

* * *

**Chapter I: The Day a Demon Awakens**

The TV's loud. Too loud for this early in the morning and especially considering the hangover that's doing its best to teach me what it would feel like to have a tiny man with a jackhammer pounding away behind my eyes. I curl in on myself on the futon, forming a half-hearted fetal position and groan before pulling the pillow over my head. At least it brings the volume down to a somewhat reasonable level. Of course, now my head's hotter than the hubs of hell and that _really_ gets the little guy going. With another groan, I push the pillow off. It flops to the ground with a _whump_. As I sit up, the little construction worker upgrades to a wrecking ball and I have to stay that way for a while, elbows on my knees and hands massaging my temples.

I can't help but wonder: how much did I have to drink last night?

After a while I decide to ignore the pain and actually do something with the day, so I stand and make my way to the small kitchen that inhabits a full third of my apartment. The rest of it is the futon and TV and a disproportionate lavatory. When I get up, my bladder remembers what it exists for and I have to jump over some of the clutter that's accumulated over the last several months of my living here to make it to the toilet. All the while, that damn TV is still blaring away.

I finish my business in the bathroom and finally, at long merciful last, turn the volume down to a reasonable level. It's another "news" cast from everyone's favorite state-run media network, BNN. The channel runs 24/7, so I guess I was waxing political last night. That never bodes well. The last time I got openly political, and can remember it, I wound up locked in a cell at the local Military Police station for a few days. And then I got fired. Let me tell you: that was _so_ much fun.

I used to work for them, you know. Not BNN – the Empire. As a young kid growing up in the Homeland, my greatest dream was to become a fighter pilot. Too bad for me the military only wanted infantry when I signed up. They were all too happy for my service, though. Especially after I passed Special Operations selection and became an Operative. I did some time fighting against some group of democratic revolutionaries on the east coast – just small pockets of anti-Imperial folks who wanted a more fair government, nothing special; after that, I helped in the acquisition and subjugation of Area 10. By the time the higher ups were satisfied that we had effectively kicked the inhabitants of the Indochinese peninsulasquarely in the short and curlies, the war with Japan was well underway. Hell, I still remember the first time I saw a Knightmare in action.

My squad and I were being bracketed by mortar fire coming from downtown Saitama. The shells rained down like God's Own piss, blowing everything – buildings, trees, people, our vehicle – to little smoldering bits. We had to hide in a blown open sewer main to take cover. Our RTO had taken about 15 rounds from a machine gun some five steps out of the transport. The radio that he was carrying caught some of the bullets and actually caught fire. Flaming metal and sizzling human flesh make an interesting combination as far as smells are concerned. The Jap operating the gun must have gotten too excited about managing a kill, though, and none of his other bursts of fire managed to hit us as we all scrambled for cover.

"_Jesus Christ, they killed Brad!"_ one of my men shouted over the team-speak radio mounted in all our helmets. I couldn't tell if he was pissed off or scared shitless. Probably both.

"Keep your fucking cool, people!" I ordered in my best Drill Sergeant voice. Most of my guys still remembered what it was like to have a Drill breathing down their necks. They straightened out quick. "Santos, take your team and swing around behind that shop! Alberts, you're with me!" Within seconds, the teams were back on track, following my orders and their training. We sprinted behind the hulks of burned out cars and other debris common to an urban battlefield, shooting back at where we thought the gunner was all the while.

It wasn't long before he responded. The Jap on the trigger had either regained his composure or been replaced, because the next burst cut down two more of my men. On the plus side, I now knew that the son of a bitch was holed up in a second-story window at the end of the street. While my guys rained suppressing fire on his position, I lined up a shot with the grenade launcher attached to my weapon.

A grenade explosion in real life isn't like what you see in the movies. Sure, it's about the same size, but there's much less fire and other fanfare. Usually, you just get dust and smoke and screaming. There wasn't any screaming this time. The whole wall came crumbling down, pushed past its limits by the explosion. I caught sight of a dismembered arm tumbling through the masonry. That was enough confirmation for me. We headed back to Santos's position and helped set up security while our Combat Life Saving teams assessed the dead and injured. We had three of the former and two of the latter.

I was ordering the dead and wounded back to the transport when it took a mortar to the engine compartment. With no other available course, we gathered up the injured guys and started running for our lives as shells came down around us. Alberts caught one with his face and we were forced to leave what little was left of him and his team behind. Apparently the Japs wanted their stash of Sakuradite just as bad as we did.

We were past the former machine gun nest when Santos pointed out the broken sewer main. We all squeezed in and waited for the end; whether it was just an end to the shelling or an end to our collective lives, I wasn't sure. The bombardment intensified shortly afterward, but it sounded further off and I could hear something over it: a high-pitched whining sound accompanied by grinding.

"_The hell is that sound, Sarge?"_ Santos asked, looking to me for answers.

I told him I had no fucking clue and poked my head out. I could see columns of smoke rising over the tops of the buildings and explosions were lighting up the early morning streets. The sound was getting closer and fresh detonations trailed in its wake. _"Queen 6-3, this Knight 5-1. How copy, over?"_ a female voice called over the radio. I couldn't help but flinch at being called "Queen" anything. I get that the whole "Infantry is the Queen of battle" thing is a reference to the most powerful piece in chess, but that doesn't stop it from being humiliating.

"Knight 5-1, Queen 6-3. Good copy, break. We are taking heavy Jap mortar fire and need a hand. Status on reinforcements? Over."

"_Reinforcements are a no-go, 6-3, but I'll do you one better. Sit tight and watch the show, out."_ She struck me as awfully flippant for someone who had just told a man that he and his team were basically fucked. All the same, I did as she suggested and kept a lookout. I remember thinking that whatever heat she was bringing, it had better have been worth it.

Moments later, a gray giant came rumbling around the corner. It was a blocky contraption, bulky and squared all over. As it approached, the face split into quarters and slid away, revealing a small sphere with a glowing central eye. The sphere pulsed green for a second before the quarters slipped back into position. The giant sped past, propelled by a pair of short arms that terminated in wheels attached to the legs. It was followed by two others. The giants turned a corner and it wasn't long before heavy gunfire erupted and more explosions stopped the mortars.

My men and I climbed out of our sewer and looked down the road, still in shock at having seen Knightmares in combat. The war must have been going worse for us than first anticipated. They rolled back soon enough and stopped in front of us. The lead machine knelt down a few meters away from me and turned. A hatch on the back fell open and a chair containing a woman slid out. She dropped from the seat and came my way. Given all the shit I'd seen over the past few years, figuratively and literally, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Pale blonde hair, brilliant emerald eyes, flawless skin, and a killer body to boot. And don't even get me started on that form-fitting pilot's suit hugging the ample contours of her form.

I picked my jaw up off the road and resumed my role as Squad Leader. "I take it you're Knight 5-1?"

"That I am, sergeant." She shook sweat from her golden mane and put a hand on her hip. "Care to give me a SitRep?"

"Well as you can see, we got pretty jacked up back there," I said, too flustered to even throw in any of my trademark sarcasm. "Half my squad's dead or wounded and our vehicle is toast. There's no way in hell we can take the stockpile and hold it against a counterattack."

She just nodded, all sagely wisdom despite her young age. "Command guessed as much. I told them this was a suicide run, but they really want that Sakuradite." She seemed genuine enough to me, but the fact that she had told command anything but the standard yes-sir-no-sir threw me off. And aside from that, what the hell was a girl like this doing saying anything to command? "Anyway, I'm Knight Second Class Marina Allswell. And you are?"

I can only imagine how far my eyes bugged out at hearing that she was a Knight. I only just stopped myself from dropping to one knee and averting my gaze as I answered, "Sergeant Vincent Miles, my lady. Thanks for pulling our asses out of the fire."

"Oh, jeez," she said with an annoyed sigh. "You can cut the 'my lady' crap. I may be a Knight in rank, but I'm still just a commoner. Call me Marina. In any event, Sergeant Vincent Miles, we can still clear the route for transportation of the Sakuradite. What say we get on that?"

"Of course, my-" a glare cut me off. "Marina. And please, just Vince is fine."

Her gaze switched back to warm as fast as it had turned icy and she smiled. "Alrighty then, Vince. Let's show these Jap bastards that they can't screw with Britannia."

My men were anything but pleased to learn that we were continuing on mission, but our orders were coming directly from a Knight in the field: that's not something you can ignore. With the Knightmares backing us up, we managed to finish the mission and get back to the FOB in time for a late lunch. Marina and I were placed on several more missions together throughout the war that followed and, on more than one occasion, spent some private time in her quarters "planning" for the next mission.

After the war ended, I was garrisoned in the Tokyo Settlement with a new squad. Santos was given command of a squad of his own and shipped off to the European front. Marina and I tried a real relationship not based on the fact that either of us could be dead the next day and sex, but couldn't make it work out in the end. I've still got a picture of us somewhere…

A pounding at the door ceases my attempt to find the picture before it begins. I don't even bother going to it. "Yeah?" I call from in front of the TV, finger still stabbing the button to turn the volume down.

"Hey, Vince!" a man shouts from the other side. "You going to get moving or what, man? There's a meeting today, remember?"

"Yeah, Satoshi, I remember." My mind starts buzzing, trying to remember. I've completely forgotten about the meeting. "1700 at the usual place, right?"

"Dammit, Vince, do you know how drunk were you last night?"

I cringe and mutter under my breath, "apparently, _very_." I make my way to the door and open it so that Satoshi and I can stop shouting through the door for any curious passerby to hear. He enters and gives me an appraising look.

"You look like shit. That's why you don't drink on an empty stomach. How many times do I have to tell you that?" he says with a grin that's more schadenfreude than anything.

"At least one more, mother, same as always. Now remind me about this meeting?" I open the pantry, hoping for something to eat so that my stomach's grumbling wouldn't interrupt anything going on later.

"Boss Lady called it herself. 1500 at the airfield." He shrugs in a way that indicates something huge is going on rather than something dismissible. "Rumor is that she's found Zero."

I stop what I'm doing and stare at him. "No fucking way…"

"Yeah. I mean, it's just hearsay, but I overheard that from Kallen herself."

As far as the general public is concerned Zero has been dead for a year, executed in the Homeland for his crimes against the Empire; the Black Knights, his personal army, had "officially" disbanded under the lack of leadership shortly afterward. Britannia was still looking for some of the key players, though. I scratch at the stubble growing on my chin. "So even Red thinks this is legit?"

Satoshi nods gravely. "Oh yeah. This is all hands on deck, Vince. After all our waiting and praying, we're finally going to get Him back."

I check my watch. We still have a couple of hours to go, but I always did like to be early to any party. "I'll get ready," I tell him as I abandon my hunt for food and start digging in my dresser for a clean set of clothes.

A short while later, I emerge from the bathroom, clean shaven and no longer smelling of alcohol and body odor. Less than 15 minutes later, we're aboard a train headed south. Satoshi sits while I stand, gently swaying with the train's rocking momentum. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been looking out at the scenery as it flashed by. This hangover, however, is anything but ordinary. I figure that my only reasonable course of action is to find out which bar – or bars – I went to last night and kill each bartender in turn for letting me drink so much.

We're a good distance away from the Tokyo Settlement, so most of the train's passengers are Japanese like Satoshi. I'm sure I receive more than a few unkind stares from them and I _know_ that those elbows to the side as they file past me were intentional. Even the most downtrodden Japanese has pride.

If only these people knew what I've given in the name of their pride. In the name of their freedom. Then again, I'm not sure if even I understand just what I've sacrificed by joining up with the Black Knights.

When I first approached them, a little more than a year and a half ago, they thought I was a spy. And why wouldn't they? I was a highly-decorated, excessively efficient Britannian Special Operations Non-Commissioned Officer. Hell, I was probably personally responsible for the deaths of more than a few of the members' families. As is the case with most captured spies, I was kept without trial in a holding cell while I awaited either judgment or interrogation. Neither option sounded very pleasant. There was no way that I was going to get out of this alive, of that I was sure.

I had resigned myself to my fate when the door opened and standing there, without so much as a guard, was Zero himself. I'm not too proud to admit that I nearly crapped myself from shock. He strode into the cell with all the confidence of a god. The door slid shut behind him and the mask turned towards a camera positioned against the roof in a corner. The small diode on the front, no doubt put there for the benefit of prisoners like me, winked out.

I just sat there and stared like a dumbass. I mean, here was the leader of the Black Rebellion, the Hero of the Elevens and all-around pain in the Empire's ass, walking unguarded into a room with a Britannian SpecOps ex-operative. I had to admire his bravery, if not his wisdom, in such a choice. I spoke first. "You've got some real _cajones_, walking in here like that. If I _were_ a spy, I could kill you where you stand and your people couldn't do shit to stop me." Was it crass of me to say so? Yeah, sure. Was it true? You'd better believe it.

If he was put off by my language, his manner didn't reflect it. Maybe it was that voice modulator he's got in his mask or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, the guy shrugged a little and tilted his head. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you are assuming that my only strengths lie in leading and giving speeches." He looked at the accommodations: a single chair which I inhabited, a toilet in the corner, and a cot in another. I'd been in worse places, but not by much. "One could also say the same of you," he observed, bringing his mask back to me. "Why would a man such as you, who has shown such devotion to the Empire of Britannia, betray his own? You cannot very well expect us to believe your claims of wishing to join."

"Well, you've got me there. But I've got a present for you," I countered with a grin. "A goodwill gift, if you will."

"Oh? And what might that be?" It was like fishing with my dad again. I could see the quarry eyeing the bait; I just had to jiggle it a little to make it more enticing and I'd have my dinner. Or something like that. Metaphors were never really my thing.

"I've got Britannian frequency decryption protocols-"

Zero dismissed that offer with a flourish of his hand. "The Black Knights receive daily updates on that."

Well, damn. That certainly explained a lot, though. "Alright. You obviously already know plenty about Britannian military doctrine and tactics. How about a detailed description of the raid they're planning two days from now against one of your supply depots?" I knew about more than the one I was offering, but I couldn't afford to show my entire hand.

I'll give him credit where credit is due: Zero is damn near impossible to surprise. Ever. He could be screwing that little pale girl who's always hanging around him and Captain Kozuki at the same time in the Emperor's personal chambers and still manage to ask the guards for time to finish when they kick the door down. He'd probably get it, too.

"How did you come into this information and, more importantly, why would you give it to me?" he asked, calculated curiosity only _just_ audible in his voice. The hook was nearly set. I was almost home free.

"The how part's easy: I'm supposed to lead the assault. My unit has a projected casualty rate of 60 percent. Not good odds for us, you know? But then, we're just the initial assault. After most of us distract your guys and die horribly, the real force hits from the rear. Knightmares, tanks, a full three platoons of dismounted infantry. The whole kit and caboodle." I looked directly at where I imagined his eyes would be. "As for why? This shit sucks. It's that simple. I'm sick of looking around at all the Japanese people here and knowing that _I_ did this to them. That I, _personally_, helped subjugate them and countless others in the name of a country that doesn't even understand basic fucking dignity."

Zero nodded a couple of times, like he already knew all this. "Do you have anything else?"

I leaned back in the chair, trying to look relaxed. "I might. This is huge, though. I'm giving you time to get your people and supplies out of that warehouse before the whole fucking thing gets blown sky-high. Hell if it'll make you feel better, you can take the information and put a bullet in my head for all I care – I just want you to win against these bastards." I was starting to worry that he didn't think my info was solid. "Just beat them, okay?"

Zero stood there looking at me for a long time. Maybe he was talking to his underlings, maybe he was planning a creative execution for me, maybe he was considering what he was going to have for dinner; I don't know. After a while, he spoke again. "The Britannians will know that they were betrayed. How do you plan on escaping their vengeance?"

"That depends on what time it is," I said, voice devoid of emotion. "If it's after 1300, then disgraced Sergeant Vincent Miles is dead. His residence in King's Commons Apartments was targeted by a bomb set by Britannian hardliners seeking greater punishment for a political dissident than a simple dishonorable discharge. They were kind enough to leave a few pieces of evidence behind that point in no way to any Japanese resistance movement and, unfortunately, the blast was so intense that Miles's body was too disfigured to determine identity." I shrugged. "So much for leaving a pretty corpse."

Zero nodded and spun on his heel. At the far side of the open door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "The time is 1432. If Mister Miles is dead, then what should I call you?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little. It's a strange experience, being told that you're dead. "Hell, I don't know. Vince, I guess."

"Very well then. I thank you for this information, Vince. I will use it to the best of my abilities." With that, the door slid shut. The diode on the camera lit back up and it resumed tracking my every movement within the cell. It didn't have much to do for a while.

When the pieces in my head finally clicked into place, I sat back in the chair. "Huh." I looked at the camera. "Well _that_ was unexpected."

The rest, I suppose, you can guess at. I spent the next couple of days in the cell, killing time by sleeping, doing pushups, and sleeping some more. Every now and then I put my ear to the door in the vain hope that I would hear something of the outside world.

The Britannians raided the warehouse in force. When the initial assault team broke in, they found the place emptied of everything but a few crates. The rest of the foot soldiers came in shortly afterward to help secure the building. After that, the Knightmare Devicers dismounted and came in to offer their "expert" advice and help lead the search efforts. And then some nosy and unwise private decided to open their present early. Kid's parents must have never taught him not to peek at his Christmas gifts. He learned that lesson the hard way that night, when shrapnel, heat, and pressure flayed him alive and took his life, along with the lives of most of the raid team. Those few who weren't killed outright suffered from injuries ranging from mortal to minor.

All in all, I was conflicted over the turn of events. On the one hand, I was happy to finally get started on changing some of my bad karma. On the other, I couldn't help but wonder how much bad karma one had to accumulate before the negatives started turning positive. All the same, it wasn't as though I could change course: I was a dead man, after all. If I resurfaced, I would be called a traitor to the Empire and executed. I wasn't sure that I didn't deserve it.

"Vince? Vince are you listening?"

I come back to the present with a start. "What's that?" I ask as I look around, expecting to see the cell again. It's a pleasant surprise to see that I'm on the train instead.

"I said that we're almost there. Don't flake out on us, Vince. We need you on this," Satoshi admonishes. I must have been really zoned out if he's that worried.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about the first time I met the boss." I rub my eyes. "I'm solid."

Satoshi looks past me out the window. "You'd better be," he grumbles.

"What crawled up your ass and died, Satoshi? Jesus, you haven't been this hard on me since I joined the firm." Even surrounded by Japanese, you can never be sure who's acting as a set of ears for Britannia. Whenever we're in public, we refer to the Black Knights as "the firm." Makes things easier for everyone. Except Britannia, but then I guess that's the point.

"And you haven't gone out and gotten so piss-drunk that I had to drag your ass back to your apartment the night before an operation since…" He has to think for a second. "Since, well, ever. Did your _previous_ employers allow that kind of crap?"

Oh great. Now he's bringing my past up. This is a dangerous conversation, especially given the dubious loyalties of our present company. "They didn't give a damn what I did, so long as I stayed within the rules, did my job, and did it well," I growl back, tired of Satoshi's attitude. "And my coworkers were willing to overlook what I did on my personal time, even if it affected them."

"Even if it affected them during a date?" he snaps back.

Oh. _Oh._ So that's why Satoshi is so pissed off at me. I must have killed his shot at getting laid last night. "Okay, fine. My bad. I shouldn't have gone out and got that shitfaced." I shrug and shake my head. "Alcohol is an evil substance that should be banned the world over for its corrupting influence on man."

"You…" he says with a sigh, "are a complete ass."

"That's true, but so is my apology. Plus, having me is good for the firm, right?"

"_Next stop, Kanagawa. Next stop, Kanagawa. Please exit from the right side of the train,"_ the PA announces.

"That's us," Satoshi tells me, standing up and taking hold of a handrail. "The boss said that there's going to be a car waiting for us."

As usual, the pale girl's word holds true and a simple black sedan is waiting for us outside the station. After it drops us off at the airfield, the car drives away. The driver never said a word. She must have shelled out some serious cash and favors for the guy to be so professional. Of course, it's possible that he's a Black Knight, too, and is just following orders.

The meeting hangar is easy enough to find – it's the _really_ big one with the blimp and a few militant-looking Japanese hanging about. Honestly, if the Empire hadn't re-relegated the Black Knights to a minor annoyance in their Big Book of Bastards, they would find this place in a heartbeat. In a way, Zero's disappearance was the best thing that had happened to us up to that point. In all fairness, though, the operation wouldn't have been necessary in the first place if Zero hadn't vanished on us.

Satoshi walks in first and I at his heels. The murmur dies down when I enter, as is typical at Black Knight meetings. They never claimed to be a nationalistic or biased, but the official story wasn't exactly the truth. I had earned the trust of a few, like Satoshi, but most of them still saw the Britannian soldier that I had been, rather than the freedom fighter I had become. I let Satoshi lead us to the head of the small group, ignoring the mistrustful looks and mutterings.

"I don't know if they're ever going to fully accept you as a member, Vince," Satoshi admits. It's weird how he seems to be able to read my mind at times.

"Don't need them to accept me. I just want the chance to make things right." I light a cigarette and inhale deeply. "All I really need is for a small handful of them to listen to me."

We arrive at the head of the gathering in silence. The blimp's cargo hatch is lying open on and the interior is loaded with Knightmares of various builds. Most impressive is Kosetsu Urabe's Gekka. I can see a few people moving around in the gloom further within. They seem to be engaged in some sort of heated conversation, but I can't make out anything being said.

"Hey, check it out, Satoshi. That look like Boss Lady and Red to you?"

Satoshi waves smoke from my cigarette out of his face and squints into the darkness. "Yeah, maybe. It would make sense, though. They _were_ the ones to call the meeting, after all."

The two of us meet up with a few of our buddies, two men and a woman who had grown to trust me as Satoshi had, and while the time away as our interim leaders wait for the appointed time. A small handful more of the Order arrive while we wait and converse amongst ourselves. The murmur of conversation is almost enough to echo in the massive hangar when it suddenly dies. I turn towards the blimp.

Standing on the slightly raised hatch of the cargo bay is Captain Kosetsu Urabe, our de facto commanding officer. The man was a good Devicer – hell, he was great – but I found him to be too focused on the smaller aspects of the revolution. Too willing to indulge in the personal to be a truly effective captain. Damn near everyone else loves him though. A cheer from the little crowd at his arrival on the stage splits my head with an axe.

"Countrymen!" he cries when the uproar dies down. Captain Kozuki and the "Boss Lady" flank him on either side. That he doesn't bother to mention us defectors is not lost on me. He's probably still bitter that I had hijacked his Knightmare during the Second Pacific War and used it to kill some of his allies.

_Oh, great. A pep talk_, I think, rubbing away at my temples again.

"It has been almost a year to the day since Zero disappeared. In that time, we have not faltered in our quest to eliminate Britannian abuses. It is a fight that many say is impossible. A battle which cannot be won. In response to this, I need only ask you to look around you. You are surrounded by allies in this so-called pointless fight. Brothers and sisters who would lay down their lives for the dream of a free Japan." Another round of cheering. Why can't officers just say their piece and be done with it? It's really not that hard to say "go here, do that."

"Do not lose heart, brave soldiers. Soon will be the day when we, The Order of the Black Knights rise again to power and crush Britannia's stranglehold on Japan! And then, we will do it again for the entire world's sake!

"But first, we must take back that which was stolen from us: Zero Himself. We know where He will be and, with the help of Captain Kozuki and C.C., we will have Him back!" The revelation of some sort of identity for the Boss Lady blocks the pain brought to my head by the next round of ovation.

There's no way that could be her real name. He pronounces it "C-2." A two-digit letter and number combination could indicate a lot of things, but it's a far cry from what parents would choose for their child. I'm so caught up in trying to determine all the possible meanings that I don't even notice the crowd moving until Satoshi pushes me.

"Captain Urabe said he needs to talk to us. Get a move on, Vince."

I give an affirmative and lead the way into the cargo bay with the rest of the Black Knights. There aren't many of us, especially compared to the night of the Black Rebellion, but the bay is still rather cramped thanks to the Knightmares. We make our way to the bridge where Captain Urabe is waiting. I stand at attention while waiting for his instructions. Just because I don't like the guy doesn't mean that I can throw protocol out the window, you know?

He gives me a look and then glances at Satoshi. "You will play a special role in this mission, Operative Miles," he says, all grave determination. I still don't understand why he insists on calling me by the name of a dead man. "You will arrive early to the target building with Captain Kozuki and wait for Zero to arrive. When He does, you will everything in your power to protect them from harm, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will only intervene if their lives are in direct threat. Otherwise, you will use your talents to remain undetected and keep track of them."

"Understood, sir."

"Corporal Satoshi, you will not be taking part in the mission. We need you to go to the Chinese Consulate and inform the ambassador there that 'the appointed time has arrived'." And now we've got code phrases. This mission has all the makings of a bad movie.

To Satoshi's credit, he only hesitates for a moment at being given such a role. "Yes, sir," he says in a controlled voice that, to me, speaks of anger. To someone who doesn't know him as well, I'm sure his tone sounds neutral and deferential.

Urabe picks up a file folder and hands it to me. "All the details are in here. There is not much time. You are dismissed."

I accept the folder, snap off a salute, and leave without another word. As we leave the hangar, Satoshi asks me, "so where is He going to be?"

I open the folder. "Babel Tower, apparently. Never figured Zero for a hookers-and-poker sort. Then again, He's kind of hard to get to know." I light another cigarette. "He never comes and hangs out with us grunts, you know? What a downer."

"There are some in this organization that would call that something akin to blasphemy, Vince."

"And I would call them fucking crazy for it. Zero's not a god. He's not a devil or a demon or an angel or a wizard. Under that mask is a human being. A damn brilliant one, but a person all the same." Satoshi quiets down for the time being and lets me read the file as we walk back to the station.

Zero's ETA at Babel is around 1600. He's not expected to be alone. Kallen and I are supposed to get there two hours early so that we can take our places. As soon as we separate Zero from whoever is with him, we take him to the roof and signal for pickup. Then it's back to the hangar and drinks all around. It's a great plan, really.

Too bad it'll never work.

Back when I was just a specialist, one of my NCOs was fond of saying, "No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy; especially when the plan is a good one." It had been his theory that the best laid plans of mice, men, and officers were the ones that should be avoided as often as possible for the simple fact that Murphy's Law rules the battlefield. He was killed on one of those supposedly well-planned missions that, of course, went absolutely batshit.

"How're you going to know who He is?" Satoshi asks when we get on the train. It's early in the afternoon on a weekday now. Most everyone's at work.

I close the folder and give him a skeptical look. "It says here that Red knows what He really looks like and will give me a signal. After that, we just have to get him to the pickup point and skitter off." Oh yeah, there is _no way at all_ this plan is going to work right. I can hardly wait to see at what point it all falls apart.

We ride the train all the way back to the station that we started at and part with a handshake. Satoshi's disappointed that he won't get to take part in the recovery, but knows that his job is important all the same. He's got a good, determined heart, that one. For my part, I'm going to shove some groceries down my neck and get decked out for the operation. The Captain and I are supposed to meet in half an hour, according to the timetable laid out in the folder. More than enough time.

When Red and I meet, it's in the alley behind my apartment building. It's surprisingly clean compared to most alleyways, which is to say that it's disgusting but at least there's a path leading between the piles of garbage along either wall. She's wearing a long coat that covers everything from her shoulders down to her ankles. I spot a pair of high heels on her feet and my questioning look earns a blush and an order to shut the hell up.

I shrug and lead her to the car. It's a stylish green two-seater that most people will associate with success. She takes in my appearance as I start it and drive towards the Settlement proper. My hair's slicked back with enough gel to fill a kiddie pool, I've got a gold earring in my right earlobe, my button-up shirt is fastened only about halfway up my chest, showing off toned muscle and the tacky gold chain and crucifix combo around my neck. I've got pants on that approximate the business casual slacks of Britannians who actually do something that resembles working for a living. All in all, I look like a douchebag. In this case, it's a good thing. That's the character I'm meant to play for this mission, after all. I mentally prepare the cover I'm going to use on the drive over.

Name: Christopher Block. Occupation: freelance asset acquisition – "you need it and need it quiet, I can get it for you." Reason for Block's visit to Babel Tower: delivery of a gift to open up a working relationship with one of the casino managers, a man named Jeremy Newton. I run through the overview out loud to Captain Kozuki, but she stays quiet. I slip into the New Amsterdam accent that I've decided upon for this cover. "Hey, you gonna do somethin' aside from starin' out the window or what?"

She gives me a glare that most guys would probably flinch at. I nearly do. "You just had to choose an annoying accent for your cover, didn't you?" she asks before looking back out the windshield.

"I can't afford not to, ma'am," I tell her, back in my usual voice. "Anyway, what's this gift that I'm supposed to be bringing them? The file is scarce on details and I wasn't given any supplies."

She shifts uncomfortably a bit and, before she turns her head away from me, I catch sight of a blush. It takes a while for her to answer. "The gift is… it's me."

Well. That has an effect on the landscape. "So it's one of those kinds of casinos." I'd been to several during my time in the military, but never really by choice. Most of the women "employed" at them are those who couldn't get a job doing anything except selling their bodies. The exploitation makes me sick.

I can already tell that this mission was going to push the limits of comfort for Captain Kozuki and me. "My apologies for speaking freely, ma'am, but this mission's going to go sideways. "

She's suddenly indignant and forgets her embarrassment for the moment. "Then why don't you just go back home and forget about the whole thing?"

"Yeah, because a guy who knows as much as I do would _totally_ be allowed to live if I quit," I reply, sarcasm bordering on insubordination. The Black Knights were never that big on military protocol, though, so it slides. "I'm in for the long haul, ma'am. Doesn't matter to me whether a mission goes according to plan or flies so far off the damn rails that the ride ends up in space, I'll stick it out."

"How noble of you."

Alright, I get it. She's not my greatest fan ever. She should see about joining the club. I've got to get the conversation back on track, though. As a soldier under her command, it's my job to follow her orders and keep her safe in the process. "As I was saying, this shit is going to go all kinds of wrong. I just wanted to ask that you not take any unnecessary risks when it does, ma'am."

I bring us around to the back of the Tower and pull up to the gate. Captain Kozuki and I both fall into our respective roles. I'm Christopher Block, criminal with aspirations of making it big, and she's my ticket to getting my foot in the door.

The security guard stands at my window. "This area's restricted to employees only. You're going to have to turn around." He's just a kid, but he's got no illusions about how much his job sucks. I can appreciate that.

"I have an appointment with Mister Newton. He's expecting me any minute, kiddo, and he'll be pissed off if you make me late, get me? How's about you jus' let me ride on by and we forget you wasted my time?" The accent comes out, full strength and brings the character with it. I blow cigarette smoke into his face.

The kid backs up a little and mutters something that sounds like "asshole," but I decide Christopher Block will take as an affirmative.

"Thanks, kid," I say as I pull forward. The gate lifts just before the car's bumper scrapes against it. It's not long before Captain Kozuki and I are on a staff elevator headed for the casino. The place takes up several floors of the tower, with offices and other official business facilities inhabiting the top story. Newton is waiting for us in the elevator lobby as the doors open.

"Ah, Mister Block. How nice to finally meet you. Your assistant said over the phone that you were a punctual man," Newton says, trying to sound cordial and inviting. He thinks that I don't catch the hungry glance he throws the Captain, but I do. The guy's a shitbag, no doubt about it.

"First impressions are everythin', sir. You know how it is," I reply with a short bow of my head.

"Indeed. This way, please." He turns and leads us to a small bare room with a table and some chairs. "Now then. I was told that you would be bringing me something…" again, he looks at Captain Kozuki with those beady little eyes of his. Only this time, he doesn't even try to hide it. "Interesting."

"Yessir, I do." I snap my fingers and wave Kallen forward. "Found this little beauty out in Saitama," I tell him as she steps closer to the table we're seated at. She stands there awkwardly for a moment and I snap at her, "drop the coat, bitch!" She stays true to her character and flinches at my shout before doing as she's been told. The coat falls to the floor, revealing a low-cut pink Playboy Bunny costume, complete with a little puffball tail at the top of her butt and pale stockings on her legs. She's got the ears twisted up in her hands.

"She ain't too bright, but she don't have to be to work here, right? Besides that, she's got some great tits for an Eleven." I'm going to need to shower again after this mission's done; I feel disgusting.

"My, my," Newton responds with a lick of his lips. He's undressing her with his mind now and I get the urge to show him what his insides look like. "To think that a beauty like this was hiding in the Saitama Ghetto all this time." He tears his attention off of her barely-concealed breasts and gets back to business. "Are there any defects?"

"You mean aside from being born an Eleven?" We share a laugh that cements us as like-minded Britannian men. "Nah, she's clean, knows the language, has good teeth, and woo-boy is she _tight_." Make that two showers.

"I see." He sits back to take us both in. "How much?"

Bingo. "Mister Newton, you got it all wrong. I ain't sellin' her to you. I'm _givin'_ her to you. She's a gift and, in return, you can make me your go-to guy for gettin' anythin' you need." I lean back and put my hands behind my head. "Sounds like a good deal to me. Whaddya say?"

He thinks for a moment, considering the possibilities for what a man like Christopher Block can contribute to his bottom line, especially if Block can just give away a beauty like this. I can see the hamster running full tilt in its wheel in his head. "Mister Block, you have yourself a deal." He stands and opens a door behind him. A few soft words go out and come back before he returns. The door opens wider behind him and three women, dressed similar to Captain Kozuki, silently file in and lead her out. "As thanks for the gift, feel free to stay the night here and partake of the entertainment. If anything is not to your liking, show an employee this card." He pulls a business card out of his pocket and hands it to me.

It's mostly plain white, but the center is embossed with a red heart. Superimposed on the heart is a King. I take it and slip it in my breast pocket. "Thank _you_, Mister Newton. I believe I will."

He leads me out to the main floor and points out the VIP section before excusing himself to other business. At last alone, I make my way to the edge of the fight pit and test the small radio transmitter I've got buried in my ear. "Q-1, this is N-3. You reading me?"

"_If you say any of that again, I will _kill_ you, Miles,"_ Captain Kozuki responds over the link.

"It's not like I enjoyed it, ma'am." Two Japanese men are down in the pit, desperately pounding away at each other. Fists and elbows slap against faces and torsos with dull _thaps_. "Status?"

"_They're going to put me in the VIP section as a waitress. I'll be on the floor in half an hour._"

I check my watch. We've still got an hour to go before Zero's estimated arrival time. "Understood. I'll head in there and watch your back."

Her response indicates that she views me as some sort of pedophile. "Ma'am, calm down please," I ask her once she's run out of steam and cuss words. "I didn't mean it like that." I don't bother adding that she's the better part of a decade too young for me anyway.

The doors slide open on the VIP area and I enter, hands in my pockets. I decide to sit at one of the slot machines and start pumping coins into it. Every now and then, a Japanese woman in a bunnygirl outfit walks my way and offers me a drink. I show the card and they immediately start bringing the drinks for free. I spend the next hour and a half wasting money and trying to avoid drinking too much alcohol. By the time Zero shows up and Captain Kozuki gives the signal, I'm just about out of cash.

I'm leaned up against a slot machine with a good view of the door when the kid enters. He's wearing a student uniform and there's a younger boy in the same uniform following him. Kallen practically beelines for him with her tray of drinks. As soon as she's in range, she "accidentally" runs into him with the tray. I'm shocked to say the least.

To think that this guy, this _kid_, is the one who killed Clovis, started the Black Knights, and threw all of Area 11 into complete chaos is something akin to madness. But Kallen never wore a mask like Zero did. He should know her face, but he acts like he's never seen her at all. I let the scene play out on its own until this monster of a man walks up behind Captain Kozuki and grabs her by her hair, almost lifting her from where she knelt to try and clean off the schoolboy's uniform. I'm making my way slowly behind him so I can come up and snap his neck like a twig when the situation is defused by this supposed Zero challenging the big man, identified as the "Black King" underground chess master, to a game of chess.

I can't help but wonder if all of Britannia's gone fucking crazy. Underground chess mobsters? Fucking seriously? No wonder people hate the Empire.

A few minutes later, the two of them are sitting across a chess table from one another, surrounded by a crowd. There's something in the air that speaks of redirected lust for blood as the two play their game. The contest goes back and forth for a little bit before the schoolboy calls checkmate and gloats a bit. Evidently, the Black King is a sore loser and he pulls a gun on the kid while his flunkies grab the schoolboy's arms and force his face into the chessboard.

"Q-2, Q-2, this is N-3. Feel free to move any day now," I say with my hand covering my mouth in mock surprise.

I don't even get an affirmative before the whole tower starts shaking, setting the lights flickering and people screaming. I lunge forward to grab the gun from the Black King, but Captain Kozuki's got the situation well in hand with a punch and a spinning flip kick to his face. He hits the ground like a sack of shit and she proceeds to take care of his flunkies with another couple of kicks. She takes the schoolboy by the sleeve and starts dragging him in my direction as another explosion rocks the tower and the lights die for good this time. From the sounds of things, the Knightmares have arrived. I'm about to cover the remaining distance between us when she suddenly stops where she is and the younger schoolboy runs over to the older one in her grasp.

The younger kid takes the target by the hand and runs off. _So _this_ is when the whole op goes to shit,_ I think before chasing after them. I activate the transmitter again and switch channels so I can talk to Captain Urabe. "N-3 here. Lost sight of the target. I'm in pursuit."

"_We _what_?"_ he shouts back, understandably pissed off. _"Lost sight of the target?"_

"Yes, sir. Might want to send in the ground troops and Knightmares. This is going to get hairy fast."

Another voice cuts in. _"Yes, that is correct. We just received confirmation from Captain Kozuki. We'll be going in now."_

I ignore Urabe's response and keep running. They've got a hell of a head start on me already and I can't afford to let them get further ahead. They're on the main floor of the casino's shopping area before I can get eyes on them again. I'm about to jump the rail down to their level when the ceiling starts raining down all around them and a Burai with head ornamentation indicating it's Zero's drops to the floor in front of them. It extends its hand towards the kid – I still have a hard time believing that he's _the_ Zero.

Then the plan falls even further apart as Britannian Sutherlands come crashing through the windows and start shooting damn near everything. Stores, walls, windows, decorations, civilians all fall to the storm of fire. Hell, they even manage to land a few rounds on the Burai. The Sutherlands are completely devoid of unit markings, which to the trained eye is just about the same as painting them with the OSI's crest and stamping PROPERTY OF THE OFFICE OF SECRET INTELLIGENCE all over them.

I manage to avoid their ire just long enough to watch the schoolboys escape down an unfinished corridor. I'm sprinting full-tilt towards the hall by the time the OSI flunkies realize they missed one and start shooting again. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish that these guys weren't classic stereotypical villains. Honestly, what good does blasting random passersby do?

The hallway is too small for the Sutherlands to fit into, and they've got bigger problems to deal with than the one that got away, chief among them the Burai that crippled one of their machines and ran away, sans an arm. I'm rushing down the darkened corridor, pistol in hand, as a big iron door at the end slides shut. I sidle up to the wall next to it and listen. I can barely make out the pair talking to each other before one of them shouts and a trio of shots ring out. An explosion rocks dust from the ceiling above me and jars the door open a hair. I have to really put my back into it to open it the rest of the way, though.

When I finally get it open, the room beyond is mostly vacant. I can see a single set of footprints tracked through the dust laid down by the explosion leading to the far side of a gaping chasm in the center. I follow them to where a Black Knight lays. The guy looks like he's been put through a blender: his uniform is tattered and singed, his legs are just ragged stumps, his right arm stops about halfway down the forearm, his left arm is twisted at an angle that speaks of a shattered elbow, and to top it all off, someone felt the need to cut his throat from ear to ear. I look from where I'm kneeling next to the body in the direction of the tracks. They lead to another door, also closed. I stand and look at the corpse at my feet.

"N-3 here. I've found Iwatari's body in a construction area on the eastern side of the main concourse. Send someone to pick him up; I'm continuing the mission."

There's a sigh on the other side of the line. _"Roger that, N-3. We'll get him home."_

I walk to the edge of the abyss and look down into its heart. I've got no fucking clue where Zero could be. If He fell… this could very well be the end of the Black Knights. It wouldn't make sense for him to have been the one to kill Iwatari, though. I decide to search around the room for any hints.

I'm looking behind crates for any sort of clue when I hear the echo of an echo of an echo reaching up from the depths of the hole in the floor. Sounds like it's saying "Rolo" or something like it. It stops as suddenly as it starts and I go back to the ledge. It's as good a clue as any, so I start making my way down the staircase nearby.

It feels like I've been descending into the darkness for hours when I spot my first trace of passage. There's a bit of torn cloth that looks like it's the same color as the schoolboys' uniforms stuck on a piece of exposed rebar. I can make out faint footprints in the dust on the floor by squatting down really low. I'm on someone's trail. Now if I can just figure out whom it belongs to. The tracks lead off down another pitch black hallway.

It's not long before I'm in some kind of lobby. Giant pillars with gaudy decorations reach up to the ceiling and the far wall is collapsed in on itself. Flickering purple light is flowing through the breach, accompanied by crackling and people talking. I slip through the darkness of the lobby to the side of the hole and listen, pistol ready at my side.

"Boy, I'll have you know that _I_ am a Baron. I'm through wasting words on bait like you," a lofty, self-righteous voice declares. "Now, time to dispose of you – and there won't be any witnesses left."

I would take a peek, but I can hear weapons being readied and if I poke my head around the corner, they're sure to see my face. The schoolboy's voice is incredulous, surprised to find that he's looking death in the face. I certainly can't fault him there. "Dispose?" Smoke starts filtering through the broken wall and I can smell burning bodies.

When the kid talks again, the incredulity is gone, replaced by certainty and hate. "Before you _dispose_ of me, I'd like you to answer a question."

A pair of the soldiers shout something, but I'm too far away to make it out. "If being powerless is so terribly wrong then does having power make you right? Do you find vengeance evil? What's your value of friendship, is it justice?"

The Baron chuckles. "There's no justice or evil. The only truth that exists for you, bait, is the simple reality of death."

I finally edge my head around the corner. There are two Knightmares – Zero's Burai and a Sutherland – surrounded by a ring of violet flame. Standing around the Sutherland are over 20 OSI mooks. The pilot of the Sutherland, I'm guessing he's the Baron, is standing on his seat at the back of the cockpit block. I can see the schoolboy slowly walking towards the group. C.C. is standing nearby, watching with rapt attention.

"I see," the schoolboy retorts, trying to sound wise. "Then that reality is all that remains for you as well." The kid picks up his arm and extends it in front of himself. "I, Lelouch vi Britannia command you. All of you: die!" His arm flourishes out to the side exactly like the real Zero's would if He were giving a speech or barking orders.

"It can't be!" The Baron sounds as shocked as I feel. The kid is saying that _he_ is a Royal Prince? And not just _a _Royal Prince, but one who's supposed to have been dead for the better part of a decade now. To my mind, that's almost as unlikely as what happens next.

All of the OSI guys go kind of stiff for a second before coming to attention and shouting, "yes, your Highness!" They turn and point their rifles at one another. The Baron puts his pistol to his own neck, right behind his jaw, laughing. Before my mind can really catch up with what's going on, every single OSI soldier pulls their respective trigger. The 20-plus men all fall to the ground, trailing blood from gunshot wounds. It's the single most fucking insane display of fratricide and suicide that I've _ever_ seen.

I step around the corner, eyes wide and jaw on the floor. And still, C.C. and the kid are just standing there, looking at the bodies. I'm making my way forward when the Guren and Urabe's Gekka smash through the ceiling and land before the kid, kneeling. Urabe's voice pumps through his external speakers. "We've been waiting for You, Master Zero. Please, give us Your orders."

As I come closer and my eyes grow accustomed to the light pouring in from above, I see that C.C.'s outfit is stained with blood. The pool extends from a small hole in her chest, right where her heart should be. She doesn't look like she's in pain. She's not hyperventilating or showing any signs of being shot. In fact… she looks bored.

"Very well," the kid answers, doing more of his hand flourishes. "Because after all, I am Zero: the one who will crush the world and the one who will recreate the world anew."

I can't help myself. The words are out of my mouth before I can kill the impulse. "What the _fuck_ is this?"

C.C. and Zero turn to face me and the Knightmare's heads shoot up to analyze me. "Ah, Vince. Thank you for joining us," he says with a little grin.

"I knew that Zero wasn't Japanese, but You're just a kid! What the hell was that stuff about being a Prince? And how the _fuck_ did You get those guys to kill themselves like that?"

Zero just looks at me for a moment, and no one really knows what to say. Captains Kozuki and Urabe didn't see it happen, so they have no clue what I'm talking about. C.C. just fixes Zero with a slightly interested expression and shrugs. "I understand that you have questions, Vince. I'll answer them someday, but right now we have bigger problems. The Britannians will be mounting their attack soon and if we're to have any hope of winning, I'll need every soldier we have left."

He turns away from me and goes over to where the Baron's body is cooling. I can't help but stare for a few seconds. This shit is _insane_. I mean, I didn't expect this mission to go anything but all kinds of wrong but this? This is so far _beyond_ anything I could have ever imagined… looks like those bartenders are going to be getting to live a bit longer and make more money off of me.

After thinking things through for a short bit, I holster my pistol and go to one of the OSI bodies. I grab the man's rifle and pocket a pair of magazines – he won't be needing them anymore, that's for sure. "You want my loyalty, You've got it, sir." I pop the current magazine out and inspect it. Four rounds missing, one in the chamber. Good enough. I slap it back home. "What I said back when I first approached the Black Knights is still true.

"Let's show these bastards that the Black Knights are back and _not_ to be fucked with."

Zero just looks over his shoulder at me and smiles.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, that was fun. Don't really have any cool insights or anything for this chapter. As you can tell, it's just a retelling of R2 Episode 1 with an OC thrown in for the fun of it. Characters like Vince here have always interested me – the nameless, faceless grunt who gets ordered around and makes life possible for the Main Characters. I guess I just figured it was time for one of these unsung revolutionaries to have his time in the spotlight. And don't worry - Vince won't end up with any of the canon characters.

Inspiration(s): Heroes Die (and its sequels) by Matthew Woodring Stover; personal experience from being a grunt myself.


	2. Chapter 2: Taps at Reveille

**Code Geass**

**The Millionth Miracle**

BontaKun117

**Chapter II: Taps at Reveille**

The first time I ever killed someone was… interesting. I was fresh out of Basic Training: just some new guy for the higher ups to throw into the grinder. The other guys in the squad were all veterans and couldn't be bothered to waste their precious time on giving the new dick a pointer or two. It's too bad, really.

Maybe if they'd taken the time to help me out, I would have been able to save some of them.

We had been inserted via VTOL into a defensive position that other forces had pulled from enemy control a few hours ago. Since then, the hostiles, citizens of a Pacific island now called Area 9, had been sending wave after wave of men to take it back. It was a good position: rocky, elevated terrain that offered plenty of cover from small arms fire as well as decent places to shoot back from. Hell, they'd even left their mortars and machine guns behind. All in all, Britannia was settled in here for the long haul.

The VTOL dropped us off and flew back to the carrier for the next group. We were dragged aside almost immediately by the Lieutenant on site. I could tell right off the bat that he was nobility. He had this preposterous-looking facial hair and a timbre to his voice that said, "I'm better than you, grunt. Show respect." We gave him about as much respect as your average person gives a particularly irritating housefly when it's buzzing _just_ out of reach. All the same, though, he was our commanding officer in the field and his orders held precedence over what we had been told on the ship.

We were to go a short ways down the path and act as a primary defensive line against attacks on the position. It wasn't too long before we were in position, hidden by the foliage and waiting for baddies to start pouring up the slope at us. My hidey-hole was right on the edge of the path behind a rock. We didn't have to wait long.

The attack started with a shout of surprise from one of my squad mates. My partner, a machine gunner with a scarred face, went to a knee and aimed in the direction of the cry. He was about to get back in position when the back of his head blew outward in a spray of gore.

This was just a week before Britannia fielded the improved full-head combat helmet. I doubt if it would have helped him anyway, but it certainly wouldn't have hurt his chances.

I edged my rifle barrel around the rock. I saw shadows moving around further down the slope. "_Contact!_" I shouted, "40 meters downslope!" I sighted in on one and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened – the damn safety was still on!

I squirmed back behind the rock as bullets started landing all around me, chipping shards away from the boulder and shredding through the foliage around me. A grenade landed nearby. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted up the hill, zigzagging my way between trees. I was almost back to the fallback point when something that felt like a speeding car slammed into my body armor just below my shoulder blade.

I pitched forward, balance thrown off by the impact, and landed gracelessly in a fern. I was gasping for breath and fighting off the darkness closing in on the edges of my vision. When I finally brought my breathing back to a manageable cadence, I rolled over and sat up. I was completely exposed. One of the New Zealanders – we called them Neo-Aussies – stood nearby, rifle hanging limply at his side. He held his hand out to me. "You don't wanna die here, do you, kid?" he asked in a gruff, accented voice. "How about you just come back with me and tell me all about your defenses up there?"

I pointed my rifle at him. I'm sure he saw how much it shook.

The Neo-Aussie shook his head and dropped his hand. "No, I guess not. It's a shame, really, kid. We treat defectors pretty good, all things considered." He took a step closer. "POWs, on the other hand? Nasty stuff. Come on, kid, I saw you down there: you don't even know how to use that thing. Just put it down and we can forget this whole thing happened."

"Go fuck yourself," I said, quiet and terrified. When he asked me to repeat myself, louder, I obliged, screaming, "_Go fuck yourself!_" In that instant, all of my training came flooding back to me. The safety clicked off, my weapon steadied despite my awkward angle, and the trigger squeeze was just like they had taught me: slow and smooth. The rifle bucked twice. A controlled pair aimed right at his chest. My Drill Sergeants would have been proud.

The first round struck in the center of his sternum. The second caught him in the throat. The look on his face was, not to sound like a sadist or anything, priceless. He was so surprised, so _offended_, that some dumbass kid had managed to kill him that he couldn't even really understand what was going on. To be fair, at least some of what he was feeling was mutual.

Like I said, it was the first time I'd killed anyone. There was joy and confusion at being alive, disbelief and horror at having ended another person's life. I rolled onto my side and the rifle fell from my numb, shaking fingers. I started crawling toward Sergeant Dreivus's position. I made it all of maybe half a meter before I stopped and puked my guts out.

Killing another human being isn't something that comes naturally to most people. Killing an animal – a deer or a cow or whatever – is normal; we eat those. We're not _supposed_ to kill each other. It's part of keeping the species alive. I've noticed that the needs of the human race will, nine times out of ten, lose out to self-preservation, though.

When I got to the Sergeant's position, I was thankful that my last meal was soaking into the hill some 50 meters downslope. His body was riddled with bullet holes and half his face was missing. Blood was splashed everywhere. The remains of one of my squad mates weren't in any prettier shape. It wasn't until I reach the LT's position at the top of the hill that I actually registered the sounds of battle raging around me.

Rifles, machine guns, and explosions from various other sources rocked the twilight. Some of them sounded right, booming and horrible, while others sounded uncomfortably like the fireworks I shot off as a kid on holidays. One of the guys who had helped take the hill dragged me behind an outcropping of rock as I crawled back through the perimeter, croaking the password. "Where the hell is your squad?" he asked, angry and confused.

"Sergeant Dreivus and Jameson are dead…" I told him, still shaken by what I had seen. By what I had done.

"Well, shit. Alright, kid. Get back to the CCP and let the medics check you out." He nodded towards the center of the encampment and I, too numb to do much beyond follow the simplest of orders, obeyed. I shot three more people that night.

It's true what they say: it does get easier after your first.

I think that was when I started to really understand just what it was that I signed up for. I know for damn sure that that's when I told myself I'd never feel powerless on the battlefield again. I applied for Special Forces Selection at the end of the campaign. It's been what, seven, eight years since then? Something like that. Point is that I've got no problems with killing people in combat anymore.

The radio transmitter in my ear is buzzing with reports to Zero and his orders. I'm pulling security on the office that He's taken as a command center. Captain Kozuki's in there with Him, but that's hardly my concern. I'm more worried about the assholes at the end of the corridor that are trying to swipe the Captain's Guren and when the next group of soldiers is going to decide that it's time to crawl down my throat. I duck behind the wall as a fresh slew of gunfire comes entirely too close for comfort.

I wait a moment before doing anything when it lets up. I can hear the Britannians down the hall reloading. I swing fully around the corner, rifle leveled. There are three of them, and not one has their weapon ready. Whoever trained these guys is a damn moron and they're about to pay for it. There's a half-heartbeat pause where nothing happens, and then time decides to do its standard firefight thing and get all fucked up.

Everything slows way down as I start my rush, but at the same time it feels like the world's moving too fast. I'm sprinting down the hall, hugging close to the wall and firing at the closest soldier. He falls with a round in his knee and another pair in his chest plate. He's screaming. Guy Two isn't anywhere near _that_ unlucky and a bullet blasts through his helmet and turns the inside of his head into pinkish-grey goo. Guy Three has just enough time to jump start his brain and tries to get in cover. I've burned a lot of ammo on these guys already. Too much to hope I'm lucky enough to pull off another kill shot while at a dead sprint with a moving target.

When a tactical approach fails, I like to fall back on crazy. Crazy's good because it keeps the bad guys guessing. Confused people are less likely to put a bullet in you.

So I do the _really _fucking crazy thing and throw my rifle at him. He's no different than any other guy with an object rapidly approaching his face: he raises his arms to deflect it. It knocks his arms to the side and clatters off into the darkness. He's wide open for the uppercut that I deliver to his jaw. He's staggering back when my foot smashes into the padding over his balls. The pads are great for glancing blows, but anything stronger and they'll still give you a solid knock to the jewels. That's personal experience, by the way.

Guy Three screams in pain and drops his weapon, but manages to stay standing. Honestly, I almost feel bad for him. This morning when he was getting out of bed, he probably would have never guessed that the Black Knights were going to show back up and ruin his weekend plans. Like I said, though: _almost_. I can't afford to feel anything when I'm fighting for my life.

I slide around behind him and wrap my arm around his neck. My free hand clenches onto the far side of the gasmask over his mouth. I give his head a rough sideways jerk. He goes limp in my hands and I let him drop. Guy One's quieted down a little. Probably starting to get shocky from traumatic injury, blood loss, and seeing his buddies get offed by some douchey-looking guy with a bad haircut.

I shoot him in the face with my pistol. It's more humane than the treatment a lot of people I've killed got. I'm stripping equipment from the bodies for my own use when Zero and Captain Kozuki come out of the office. She heads straight for her Knightmare and boards it before zipping off. I'm sure she has very important Ace Pilot stuff to do. Zero looks at the corpses I've leaned against the wall and then at me.

There's something unnerving about looking Him in the eye after spending so long looking at that mask of His.

"Good work, Vince. The Britannians are renewing their counterattack. I need you to join P-7 on floor 14." The way He says it, it sounds like the military is nothing more than a minor annoyance – an itch that's just at the edge of that point on your back you can't quite reach. Then again, this _is_ Zero.

"You got it, sir." I buckle the clasps on the body armor and test the range of motion it affords me. No great loss there, but something feels like it's stabbing me in the chest. I remember that the gold chain is still hanging around my neck with the cross at its bottom. The way I rip the thing off and throw it to the floor would break my mother's heart, but she thinks I'm dead. Aside from that, I get the feeling that God, if He exists, has long since figured me for a lost cause.

14's a few floors below our current position, but the elevators are out of commission. After running down six flights of stairs, I'm just ready to go back to my little apartment and go to sleep. I'm just down the hall from P-7's position when a weasely voice calls from a vacant room, "Mister Block? Is that you?"

I stop in my tracks and look around. My attention finally lands on the last person I ever expected to see again. Well, maybe he's not _the_ last, but he's pretty damn close to the end of the list. "Newton. I'm surprised you made it this far." I don't bother with the accent.

He stands from where he was cowering behind a fallen section of ceiling. "The Black Knights are back!" He runs towards me and grabs onto my arm. The guy's crying and it's all I can do to not smack the shit out of him. "You have to get me out of here, please!"

I shake him off. "You're right about one thing. The Black Knights? We _are_ back. Wrong on that second part, though. Thanks for playing."

I can almost see the point at which even the hamster in its wheel gets confused and stops its frantic racing. "'We'?" He sounds like I just told him that I lit his mother on fire.

I smile. "That's right, pal." My tone indicates that he's anything but. "I am a proud member of The Order of the Black Knights. Have been for over a year."

He raises the pistol that, up until now, has been hanging limply at his side. "Bu-but you're a Britannian! And you _gave_ me that Eleven!" The pistol's shaking, but he'd still hit me if he pulled the trigger. I keep my rifle slung across my chest. No sense spooking the guy any more than I have to.

"You're a quick one, aren't you? It's called 'infiltration', jackass." The hamster's back at it, and I can tell that he's figuring out just how far up the social ladder he could climb if he killed a Britannian Black Knight. "Don't even fucking think about it," I warn, threatening.

"I-if I can k-k-kill you, then they might make me nobility!" He's not listening anymore. More importantly, I can tell that he's about to crack. If offing one Black Knight was all it took to become a noble, then a lot of the Empire's soldiers would have a lot more rights.

I decide that this has gone on for way too long. I move while he's distracted with delusions of a future that he'll never see. First things first, I've got to get that gun of his pointed somewhere safe. I slap his hand and he's amazed to find that, while the pistol _does_ work, it's not pointed at me anymore. The bullet lodges in the wall a ways down the corridor.

I follow up with a fist to his abdomen, right where the bottom ribs meet the sternum. His eyes bug out as spit and his breath fly out of his mouth. He sags to his knees, wheezing. I step back and give him a kick to the face that, at the very least, breaks his jaw. I can hear teeth skittering around on the tiled floor as he lands face down. Whatever fight he may have had in him, it's gone now. I adjust my vest and rifle and continue on my way.

When I finally get to the rendezvous point, P-7, a woman named Kobayashi, points me to a group of other Black Knight infantrymen and women. "We're to wait here for further orders," one of the guys there tells me when I ask about our current objective.

The transmitter crackles again and everyone's hand goes to their ear. _"Urabe, your sacrifice wasn't in vein; hope begins now!"_ Zero says over the radio.

The shocked silence around me is thick. These people loved Urabe. To find out that he died is a big blow to morale. We don't have much time to think about the loss, though, because a few seconds later the whole tower starts shaking like a thing possessed. Loose bits of masonry start falling from the ceiling and we grab onto each other and duck our heads.

When the world finally stops shaking an eternity later, Zero comes back over the radio. _"Use the building to escape to the Chinese Embassy. They will protect us while I plan our next move."_

A handful of Knightmares – a few Burais, five Sutherlands, and the Guren – arrive moments later to give us a lift. They take off at full speed as soon as everyone is on board and I have to hold on as tight as possible to avoid falling off the damn Burai that I'm latched to.

Our arrival at the embassy is met with little fanfare. Zero heads in alone to speak with the ambassador: a guy wearing traditional Chinese robes and, for some unknowable reason, makeup. A few minutes later, there's a delegation that directs us to our quarters and lets us know when dinner will be available. My rank affords me a private room that, I'm embarrassed to find, is actually bigger than my whole apartment. More important than that, however, is the bathroom. I take a quick shower with the door open and the TV on. Once again, it's set to the news; the anchors are, of course, talking about our attack on Babel Tower. Zero said something about an important broadcast that He wanted us to see. I'm drying off with the fluffiest towel _ever_ when it starts.

He's back in His costume, mask and all. Somehow, I find this Zero more comfortable than the schoolboy that I met earlier. _"I am… Zero!"_ He says, as though the entire world can't recognize Him. He gives a pause so that the audience can recover from getting their minds blown. _"People of Japan: I have returned!"_ He spreads His arms out like a performer accepting applause.

I can't help but feel like He was born for the stage. He knows how to play an audience, that's for sure. _"Hear Me, Britannia! All you who have power heed My words carefully. I am burdened by sorrow; war and discrimination, malicious deeds carried out by the strong. The same abhorrent interplay of tragedy and comedy. The world has not changed – the people still suffer. That is why the resurrection of Zero was necessary. So long as the strong oppress the weak, my rebellion will continue to grow!_

"_It begins today with the divine punishment I have wrought upon the inept and foolish Viceroy Calares."_ Another pause for us slowpokes in the audience to catch up to what He's saying. _"I shall fight – against all those who abuse their powers! Therefore, once again, here and now I declare the establishment of the United States of Japan! Starting from this moment, this room shall be the first dominion of the USJ!"_

"Yeah, _that's_ going to go over well with the head honchos over in the Federation," I say sardonically to the screen. He _was_ able to get them to offer us shelter, though. Maybe they're okay with losing a room in their embassy, too.

"_Race, ideology, and religion will not matter. Being a citizen will have but one requirement: to do that which is _just_!"_ And just like that, the broadcast ends. The news pundits are back on the screen, looking like absolute jackasses with their mouths gaped open. I can't really blame them, though. I mean, Zero's execution was announced and supposedly carried out a year ago and the guy who was just talking was way too articulate to be a zombie.

The anchors are just starting to compose themselves when I turn the TV off. "So the USJ's back, huh?" I ask the empty room. Big shock: it doesn't answer.

I remember the day that followed the first establishment of the United States. It was hell. It's been said of some wars in the past that the streets of certain cities or nations "ran red with blood." The day that the USJ was first founded very nearly put that old saying to the test. I wonder if this time will be any different.

I shrug and push my clothes off the bed into a tangled pile on the floor. It's not really evening yet, but I'm exhausted from the day's work. I'll take a short nap, get dinner in an hour, and then come back for the night. Just a little snooze.

The next thing I know, it sounds like someone's trying to bust the door down with a hammer. "This better be fucking important," I grumble as I get up, irritated that my nap is being interrupted. The hammering becomes more insistent as I approach. I open the door and, standing in the hallway with his fist raised for a fresh round of annoying, is Satoshi. I get a sense of déjà vu when he glares at me.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asks, angry with me again.

"Time for you to stop trying to break down my door and start calling my damn cell phone," I reply in a gravelly voice.

"Nice guess, but no. It's almost 8:30." He says it like there's something significant about the time. The only importance I can attach to it is that dinner was an hour and a half ago.

"Nifty thing about cell phones: they also function as timepieces."

"In the _morning_, dumbass."

I squint my eyes at him and we stay there like that for a bit, me peeking my head from around the door and him standing in the hall, yet again pissed off. "Oh."

He gives me a mock smile. "Yeah, '_oh'._ We've got a busy day today, so get ready." He shoves a fresh uniform through the gap between door and jamb.

"Give me 15." I shut the door and dig through yesterday's clothes. It doesn't take me long to find what I need: wallet, knife, cell phone, and most importantly: my cigarettes. I smoke one while I get ready for our supposedly busy day and, in less than 15 minutes, I'm out the door, following Satoshi through the embassy's halls. Now that I'm up and moving around, I'm starting to feel pretty good, if hungry as hell. Sometimes a guy just needs to rack out for 14 hours straight.

"Captain Kozuki and C.C. have called a staff meeting in the western conference room on the third floor. It's at 11. Iwatari's wife asked to see you before that, though," Satoshi tells me as we walk. I'm not sure where he's leading me, but I can smell something in the air that's making my mouth water.

"Can it wait until after breakfast? I didn't get a chance to eat yesterday."

"Whose fault is that, I wonder?" He's gotten a lot better with sarcasm since I first met him. It's starting to get old, though.

"Pretty sure we already went over this." I tick off the points on my fingers. "Don't drink on an empty stomach, don't drink so heavily that I forget about an operation meeting, don't blaspheme against Zero, and last but not least: don't interrupt your dates with my drunken antics." I pick up my stride a little more and get beside him. "I miss anything?"

He shakes his head. "No, I guess not. Anyway, yes there is time for breakfast. Eat fast, though. Missus Iwatari said she wanted to see you at the earliest opportunity." A few turns later, we enter an enormous ballroom. Like the rest of the Embassy, it's decorated in traditional Chinese fashion: rich scarlet, deep cerulean, and bright gold. Snake-like dragons with flowing whiskers and manes. One of the walls is a huge window that looks out over the courtyard. I can see a Britannian cordon around the front gates and I'm suddenly really happy that the Empire and the Chinese Federation signed a peace treaty – there's enough firepower out there to turn this room into dust and a memory a few times over.

Of infinitely greater interest are the buffet tables, though. They're loaded down with more food than I've ever seen all at once outside of stores. Breads, meats, vegetables, and rice, all prepared in some Chinese style or another make the room smell like heaven. I beeline for the line of Black Knights at the head of one of the tables and join the group, suddenly ravenous and impatient. Satoshi steps in behind me.

We don't talk much while we're eating – mostly because I'm too busy shoving as much food in my mouth as I can manage to bother with responding to anything he says – but our conversation inevitably lands on yesterday's action.

"I heard about what happened to Urabe," he says, as though the whole Order hasn't.

I have to swallow a pile of half-chewed oddly-flavored chicken to answer. "Yeah. It's a shame, really. He was a good pilot." It's about the best compliment I can give him. At least now he'll stop reminding me that I'm, officially, a dead man.

"He was more than that," Satoshi insists, leaning closer. "He was one of The Four Holy Swords. He was a legend among the resistance movements, even before the Black Knights came around. If the Britannians can take _them_ out, then what use are average Devicers?"

"Bullet catchers for the Guren?" My tone is joking, but am I really kidding? I have a hard time telling anymore.

"That's not funny."

"Well what the hell do you want me to say? I'm a ground pounder, Satoshi. My job is to shoot the little guys and get shot at in return and, if I'm really fucking lucky, _maybe_ I'll live long enough to see this through." Sure I can drive a Knightmare, but it's not pretty when I do. Mostly it's just a bunch of crashing into walls. At the very least, I make a decent enough distraction.

Satoshi drops the matter with a sigh. "Never mind. Anyway, I heard an interesting rumor about Zero." He's whispering now, leaning even closer across the table. "You saw Him, right? Is it true that He's just a kid?"

Damn it all, people need to learn to shut the hell up. If we're not careful about these rumors then it's only going to be a matter of time before the Empire hears them, too. I stab a particularly plump-looking carrot and chew it down. "I don't know."

Sometimes you have to lie to protect your friends and allies. I've done it before and I'm sure I'll do it again.

He squints at me, disbelieving, and stares me down. I almost tell him that it'll take something a lot worse than a nasty look to get me to talk. "That's bullshit. You were His personal security detail once Red made contact with Him."

"We got separated. I spent half of yesterday playing catch-up. The other half was-"

"Sleeping the day away like a bum?"

"Was trying to not get my ass shot to off by the Brits. By the time I finally caught up to Him, He was already in a Sutherland." I use a piece of spongy bread to soak up the last traces of sauce on the plate and pop it into my mouth. It's tasty. I'll have to look into eating more Chinese food in the future. "I wouldn't even know if I saw Him in the casino. Hell, we could have played a round of poker together for all I know."

"You're serious, aren't you?" He sounds crushed.

"And everyone saw Him when we got here: He was wearing His usual get-up." I shrug. "Sorry, buddy. The Boss Man is just as much a mystery now as He was a few days ago." More negative karma to add to the pile. Hopefully Iwatari's widow will give me the chance to relieve some of it. I stand up and light another cigarette. I get a few unkind looks, but I don't see any "No Smoking" signs. "Now then, where's Missus Iwatari?"

A few minutes later, Satoshi's walking down the hall and I'm standing in front of a door. I already know that this little visit is going to suck a big one, but it's not something I can back out of, even if I never personally agreed to it. I knock on the door. At first there's no answer and I'm about to holler to Satoshi and ask if this is the right room. I'm drawing breath for the shout when the door opens.

A miserable voice asks, "Who is it?" Sounds like she's been through hell and hasn't slept in days.

"It's Vincent, ma'am. I was told that you wanted to see me." The door opens a little more and I hear her walking away. It's probably the closest thing I'll get to an invitation, so I enter and shut the door behind me.

She's facing away from me, shoulders hunched and head down. Every now and then she sniffles. "Shinji… he was a good man. He just wanted what was best for our son," she says, still turned away. "He used to work in the Settlement, you know. He was a janitor at the HITV station. He worked so hard…"

I keep my mouth shut. What could I say, anyway? I hardly knew the guy. The only reason I even knew his name was because I was supposed to start training him on covert operations in a week. He might have survived if it had been scheduled a month or two before the operation.

"When our son, Reiji, joined the Black Knights a year and a half ago, Shinji was livid. He was terrified that something bad would happen. Reiji was at the stadium… _that_ day."

I'm starting to see where this is going, and that makes it even worse.

"He had called us the night before. He was going to leave the Order and live in the Special Zone. We were so happy for him. Shinji and I planned to move down the street from him after a while. When Euphemia gave that order, Reiji was gunned down trying to shield an elderly couple. He always did want to save people.

"Shinji and I watched the whole thing happen on the TV. He quit his job and joined the Black Knights that very same day." She finally turns to face me. As expected, she's been crying. There aren't any tears now, though. She looks broken, defeated. So beaten down by the world that so much as taking another breath is the hardest thing she's ever done or will do.

"Why did this happen?" she asks, hoping against all hope that I can answer the question that mothers and wives of soldiers have been asking for centuries: why did it have to be _my_ child, _my_ husband that died?

There's no answer I can give that will satisfy her. There isn't a reason that her son died a year ago. There isn't a reason that her husband died yesterday. I could spew some public relations bullshit about the unfairness of war or the necessity of the rebellion, but she would see right through it. I decide to go with the truth. "I don't know, ma'am. I wish I did, but I don't."

She takes a step closer. We're at a little over arm's length now. "The medics told me that he was killed instantly in an explosion and wouldn't have felt a thing, but I don't believe them. They won't let me see the body. How did he really die?" She's got a photo clenched in her hands. It's probably her only lifeline right now.

"It's like they say, ma'am," I tell her, too concerned with her fragile state to tell the truth. There wouldn't have been that much blood from the slice to his neck if the explosion really had killed him.

She steps closer and suddenly I'm fending off weak, hysterical slaps to my head and arms and chest. _"Don't you lie to me!"_ she shrieks, continuing her rain of blows.

I wait for an opening and wrap my arms around her, hugging her close and trapping her arms to her sides. "Alright. Alright," I say, quiet and empathetic. Fuck it. I'm tired of lying today, anyway. "He _was_ in an explosion, but it didn't kill him." She tries to struggle against me, but I'm too strong. She doesn't have much fight left in her anyway. "He was thrown by the blast. He lost a hand and both of his legs. Someone found him afterward and cut his throat."

She goes rigid in my arms then, as one part of her mind tries to imagine her husband reduced to such a state and another part fights to maintain the image of him alive and whole. She gives a hiccoughing sob and shakily bunches the back of my uniform in her fists. It's not long before she's crying full force against my shoulder. All I can do to help is stand there and let it happen.

I'm starting to worry about whether or not I'll be late to the staff meeting when her sobbing stops and she pushes away from me. Tears are still rolling down her cheeks, but she's calmed down a little. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Vincent."

"It's the least I can do, ma'am. Like you said: your husband was a good man."

She raises her head and closes her eyes like she's praying. Maybe she is. "Yes, he was." A deep breath and she returns her stare to me. "But I have kept you too long. You'll probably be late to the staff meeting. I'll be fine."

"Yes, ma'am. If you need anything else from me, feel free to call." I turn around and take a step, but my footstep sounds off. I stop and look down. Partially hidden by my foot is the photograph that she was holding. I pick it up and look at it. She, Shinji, and Reiji are standing in front of a shrine of some sort or another, smiling. The timestamp in the lower corner said 2009. The year before Britannia invaded.

"That was our last vacation as a family," she explains after I hand it back to her. "Those were such happy days." Her voice is bittersweet – she's happy to be looking back on good memories, but convinced that something so good won't ever happen again.

I pardon myself and go back out into the hallway. I'm a few steps away from the door when I pull out my cell phone and dial the number for the Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge of the Medical Corps. He sounds harried when he answers on the fifth ring. They're probably still busy from yesterday. "Send someone to keep watch on Missus Iwatari." I don't use the _s_-word. I hope don't have to.

The guy tries to feed me a line about not enough staff and too many patients and I get angry. "Just fucking _do it_, will you? She just lost the only family she had left!" I growl back, more than ready to go down to the medical wing and personally select a guard team for her after stomping this bastard's guts out. He gives a reluctant affirmative and I snap the phone shut. I'll have to set up a detail of less-vital personnel, but it's going to have to wait until later; I've got a meeting to get to.

I make it to the conference room just a few minutes before the meeting begins, still angry and ready to do lash out at anyone. It looks like they were waiting for me. They'll get over it.

I take a seat at the table and lean back, arms crossed. C.C. is seated next to the head of the table. Across from her is Captain Kozuki. The heads of all the other departments are spread out down the length of the table. Even our public relations representative, Diethard Ried, has managed to show up in a way – there's a small telecomm screen propped up in front of an empty chair. I can't make out any details, but I'm willing to bet that he's still got that creepy, calculating glint to his eye that pisses me off.

Most of the meeting is the usual: figuring out how many people we have left, how many were killed or wounded, what our supply situation is. Nothing spectacular. Since Satoshi and I are the only members of my department that weren't killed or captured during the Black Rebellion, I don't have much to say.

Until they ask me about why the NCOIC of the Medical Corps is complaining to his boss about me.

"Missus Iwatari needs a guard," I say, matter of fact. "That moron said they couldn't spare anyone and I lost my temper." I'm hoping that they won't pursue the matter further. Of course, they disappoint me.

"But _why_ does she need a guard?" the Medical Corps' head honcho asks. She's a plump one. Obviously never seen combat firsthand unless you count stabbing someone nearly to death over a snack cake earlier in her life. "She wasn't wounded yesterday."

"Physically speaking, you're right," I admit, and it kills me to do it. I've got a small slice of revenge coming on that score, though. "Mentally? She's a fucking train wreck and it won't be long before she tries something stupid.

"Yes, because _you're_ a mental health professional," the sow scoffs, her chins jiggling disgustingly.

"No, ma'am, I'm just a trigger puller who's seen way too many good men die and not enough shits given about their families once the burial's over."

Now she's confused. "What are you talking about?"

"One year ago, when Euphemia ordered the deaths of all the Japanese, Reiji Iwatari was killed in the stadium. Reiji was her son." The air gets heavy in the room all of a sudden at the mention of the Special Zone Massacre, and everyone who doesn't know is waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Yesterday, at Babel Tower, Shinji Iwatari – her husband – was killed in combat. Get it, dumbass? Her whole fucking world has come apart." I've seen it all before.

It was a month and a half after the mission to secure the Sakuradite. Area 11 had been almost completely pacified and we were "celebrating" our victory by burying one of my men. I didn't even know why they were bothering with a casket. We never found more of Alberts than one of his hands and some unidentifiable chunks. It wasn't my place to question it, though. Back then, I felt like it was important to uphold tradition.

Tradition or not, empty or not, the damn thing's heavy. _What, did they fill it with sandbags?_ I thought, surprised at my ability to be anything but sad at the funeral of one of my men. Alberts wasn't the first though, and I had the feeling that he wasn't going to be the last.

We moved slowly. Step… by step… by step… by step… until we finally got to the grave site. There was a big crowd. His parents and grandparents were there, along with some of his other relatives, looking surprisingly dignified. Buddies that he made during his career made up most of the crowd. What's left of the squad was sitting towards the back of the gathering. There was an empty seat in the front row. Marina was seated next to it, watching me.

I felt like a piece of shit when I thought about how good she looked in that black dress.

We placed the coffin reverently on the winch straps that would lower it into the earth and moved to our respective places. I put my arm around Marina's shoulders when I sat down. When the preacher stepped up to give the rites, I was surprised to hear him speaking Yiddish. I never would have guessed that Alberts was Jewish.

Most of the ceremony was like that: the priest – Rabbi, isn't it? – talking in a language that most of us didn't know while we just sat there, silently listening and waiting for him to start saying something we all understand. It went on for what felt like hours.

It came as a welcome change of pace when he finally started speaking Britannian. "No parent should ever have to bury their child," he said, trying to sound wise but coming off as a moron because of the cliché. "And yet, Yahweh has decreed it be so on this day. The road that God lays out for us is not always an easy one, but it is one that the faithful _must_ walk.

"Geoffrey Bartholomew Alberts was one such man. He was devoted to many things: the teachings of God, his family, his squad… but most importantly, he was devoted to the Empire."

I leaned closer to Marina. "So God takes a back seat to the Emperor now? When did that happen?" I asked her in a nearly-silent whisper.

She just gave me that look that said "shut your mouth before I do it for you." Even when she said nothing at all, she was impressively eloquent.

The Rabbi carried on like that for a little while longer, yammering on and on about Alberts's love and sense of duty. His honor and faith and sense of justice and the way he valiantly sacrificed himself for the good of the Empire.

It was a real effort for me to not stand up and correct the guy right then and there. The so-called stockpile of Sakuradite that he died trying to acquire – a fun little military euphemism for stealing – turned out to be only a few crates of the stuff, still unrefined. It was pretty much useless except as a makeshift bomb. I had to let it go, though. I couldn't have stood to tell his mother that her son died for some piles of rock that we wouldn't have been able to use for a few months.

The Rabbi finally ran out of hot air almost an hour later. The squad and I and all the other military folks stood and saluted during the 21-gun salute that was fired off as the casket was lowered. It was during the third volley that Alberts's mother broke down. I was still saluting when her cries started, and I managed to stay that way even as she rushed forward, screaming about how her baby just _had_ to be alive.

Her husband was quick to round her up and thank us for being there. He even shook my hand just before he hustled her off to a car nearby. Marina and I waited until they were out of sight to take our own leave.

The drive back to her on-base apartment was silent, as was the first half hour after our arrival. We were both changed into our civilian clothes and I was digging through the refrigerator for leftovers when she finally broke the silence.

"I hope she'll be alright," she said, leaning against the wall.

I knew who she was talking about, but I played stupid anyway. "Who's that?"

She gave me a light kick in the ass. "Don't give me that; you know who I mean."

I gave up for my search for food then and grabbed a can of beer. I took a swig before answering. "I'm sure she'll be fine." Another swig while I thought about what I said and what I was going to say. "Well, not _fine_, but you know." I shrugged. "She'll, uh, be alright?"

Marina sighed and shook her head sadly. "You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

"_Yeah, but I'm a _charming_ idiot_," is what I wanted to say. You know: hide the anger and hurt with humor. It didn't work. All that came out was a grunted "yeah." I knew it was pointless, but I tried to think of something – _anything_ – I could have done to have stopped his death. The simple fact was that there wasn't. People die in war all the time; when it's your turn, it's your turn and there isn't shit anyone can do about it. Knowing that didn't stop me from lingering on it, though.

I heard the news a week later. Alberts's family was getting screwed out of the life insurance money that the Empire owed them for his death. The military's reasoning was that they didn't have enough "evidence to support claim of death of Alberts, Geoffrey B." Hell, they wouldn't even take my word on it, and I was there when it happened. Alberts's mother hanged herself a short time later.

"I still don't see why you need one of _my_ people for – " she starts, but I cut her off.

"Because I figured that people trained to help others would fucking well jump at the chance to actually do it with someone who _isn't_ bleeding all over the damn place!" I shout at her, standing and slamming my fist into the table. She damn near falls out of the chair when I shoot to my feet.

"Y-you can't talk to me that way, _Britannian!_" she spits, putting as much venom in the word as she can manage. A few department heads turn away at this point, but several are still watching. I even catch one nodding his head a tiny bit and a fraction of a smile on his lips. He stops when I send a glare his way.

"Fuck you, pig. My race has nothing to do with this. It's about doing what's right. What's it say about _you_ that you won't even help a fellow Japanese woman while me, a Britannian as you were so kind to point out, is willing to do anything it takes to keep her from harming herself?"

She opens and shuts her mouth a few times and I hope, pray, _beg_ to any deity that'll listen that she's choking on her last meal, before she finally remembers how to speak. It's a sore disappointment. "I will have one of my men keep an eye on her."

A knock at the door kills my impulse to tell her where she can shove the guy. Satoshi comes through when C.C. calls out, "Come in." She's got a strange, lilting voice.

He waves me over and I'm all too happy to leave that damn table. When I get close enough, he whispers to me. "It's Missus Iwatari. She… we found a note that said that she wanted you to have this." He hands me the two-year-old photograph of the Iwatari family. There're a few drops of blood smeared across the front. On the back, _thank you_ is written in Kanji.

I take the photo and pocket it before waving him back outside. He leaves with a nod. The door isn't even shut yet before I round back to the fat ass in charge of the Medical Corps, but all my spite's gone out. "You know what? Don't fucking bother." I look to Captain Kozuki and the Boss Lady. "If either of you need me, I'll be in my room."

I'm done. I'm just… fucking done.

**Author's Note:** Another fun chapter to write. Sorry it's shorter than the first, but this just felt like a good place to stop. Sorry I wasn't able to get this to you all sooner. I've been really busy these last couple of weeks and my writing time was cut down to pretty much nil.

I'd like to send a big thank you to my _vode_, Dark Freddie (if you're a Halo fan, you should read his story, _Heroes without the Hammer_) and Mika-Kuruyame (she's got some great stories as well – hint, hint), for being my editors and to firelordzuko, Lunakatsuma, and teno-hikari for their wonderful reviews. Last but not least, I would like to thank one of my unit buddies here for being my semi-official Beta Reader. Vincent's story wouldn't even be half of what it is now without all of your input and guidance.

I'm glad that you guys are enjoying reading about Vince as much as I'm enjoying letting him tell you his story. Unfortunately, the next chapter's gonna be just as long in coming due to another field exercise. With luck, I'll have at least some chance at getting some writing done during that time, though.


	3. Chapter 3: That Familiar Feeling

**Code Geass**

**The Millionth Miracle**

BontaKun117

* * *

**Chapter III: That Familiar Feeling**

I spend the next hour sitting in my room, smoking and letting my mind wander. After I get tired of doing nothing, I get on the phone to start coordinating the care of Missus Iwatari's body as well as assigning a custodial detail for the room. We hold the funeral the following day. It feels strange to bury a Japanese revolutionary on Chinese ground, but it's the best we can manage – as you can imagine, morgues don't tend to come standard in foreign embassies. The funeral's a short affair, just a few short speeches by her closest friends and acquaintances. Someone asks to speak, but I decline the offer.

I knew her even less than I had her husband.

The next couple of days are filled with more idle hours than I'm comfortable with. Everything that really needed to get done is already finished – has been since the day of the meeting. All the weapons are cleaned, the Knightmares are as stocked as we can get them, and everyone is just waiting for our next set of instructions from the C.C. or the Big Man Himself. I don't even want to think about how many brain cells I kill off by watching some dumbass Britannian sitcoms.

Honestly, I'm just trying to fill the time. I figure that I can burn the hours away with cleaning my gear, managing and taking part in little bullshit details, mindlessly pumping out pushups and sit ups, and trying to perfect blowing smoke rings. It almost works, too. I manage to only spend about half my time staring either out a window at Britannia's display of force or at the Iwatari family photo. By the second day of our stay at the embassy, I'm just about ready to try my odds at rushing the Brits out there – the waiting is killing me almost as surely as their bullets would, only slower.

I'm right in the middle of re-cleaning my procured – which is to say 'stolen'; gotta love military euphemisms – assault rifle when Satoshi barges into my room. I figure he's going to try to get me to apologize to the lardass in charge of the Medical Corps again, so I take the initiative. "I'm not saying sorry to that fucking cow, Satoshi. You may as well give up," I say, angling the rifle's barrel toward the light and peering through it. It's spotless, as it damn well should be after getting cleaned five or six times.

Satoshi blinks a few times, confused. "What? Forget about that, Vince. We've got bigger problems," he tells me. I'm glad to hear that, but at the same time concerned about this problem of his. He drags me down the hall to a conference room filled with Black Knights. Even Captain Kozuki's here, wearing nothing but a bath towel. Everyone's eyes are glued to the big screen at the far end of the room, though. It's a good thing, too, or else she'd be unleashing some serious cans of whoop-ass. The view is a profile shot of Gilbert Guilford. I never met the guy, but I've heard stories about the legendary stick he's got up his ass.

"_Can you hear me, Zero? Listen closely: I am Lord Gilbert G.P. Guilford: Knight of her Royal Highness Cornelia li Britannia."_ I'm starting to get sick of all these bigwigs feeling the need to introduce themselves. If your position's high enough to afford you live news coverage that interrupts normal shows, folks already know who you are. Just say your piece and shut the hell up.

"_Beginning tomorrow at 1500 hours, these 256 special Class-A _felons –_ who are guilty of treason against the Empire – will be executed."_ The camera angle keeps changing, showing us close-ups of our captured allies. They're showing a particular liking for General Tohdoh, the remaining Holy Swords, and our other command staff. _"If you value the lives of your people, then you will face me, one-on-one, in an honorable duel! If you do not accept my challenge, then I shall declare you a _coward_!"_ He says it like it's the worst thing imaginable.

I can't speak for Zero, but I know that I'd rather be called a coward than take on a Princess's Knight in a Knightmare duel. Zero's a good pilot, but Guilford's reputation as a Devicer is even more impressive than the one about the stick. _"If your life means so much to you that you will refuse my challenge, then your peoples' lives will be forfeit!"_

I yawn rather pointedly. The guy's got some serious hot air and starts talking himself in circles. Guess he should have rehearsed the script a few more times. Satoshi gives me a "shut-up-and-watch" jab in the ribs with his elbow. I shake my head and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning close enough to whisper over the TV's volume.

"Look, we already know everything this asshole is gonna tell us. May as well start getting ready for whatever's next." I look back at the screen. The camera's back on Guilford and he's _still_ going on about how tarnished Zero's reputation will be if He doesn't show. "Unless you _enjoy_ watching him beat off to his own ego." Satoshi has to think about that one for a second and I use that pause to slip out.

I'm back in my room reassembling my weapon when he catches up. "The speech over already?" I ask. It's a pointless question though, I can hear Guilford's voice echoing through the courtyard under my window, and my greatest hope is that someone will do me the kindness of putting a bullet through his windpipe.

Satoshi makes a smart move and avoids the bait. "So what do you have in mind?"

I snap the rifle together with a few sharp clicks. "This is going to go one of two ways: Zero's either going to do His usual thing and prove that, yes, He is _that_ ballsy; or He'll decide that discretion is the better part of valor and wait until the odds are better for us," I tell him.

He nods a few times. "Which path do you think He'll take?"

"As if Option B ever exists to Him?" I say, surprised that he even has to ask. "The Boss Man's gonna show and pull some crazy shit off, just to prove that He _can_, and He'll make it look easy." I do a quick functions check on the rifle and sling it on my back. "We're going to need to find some room for our folks out there. Get the guys from Second Platoon together and have them meet me in Conference Room C in 20. I'm going to need a floor plan for the building, too."

Satoshi nods and takes off to get the job done. I pick up my pack of cigarettes and give it a light shake. Damn thing's empty. I toss it back on the table where it had been resting and go to the window. Not much has changed, but the Brits have brought in even more firepower as well as a trio of armed prison transports. They can move quick when they want to. "Our backs are against the wall, Boss Man. You're going to need some serious tricks to pull this one off." _Maybe I should be calling Him "Boss Kid," _I think with a bit of a smirk. The soldiers out there would be _pissed_ if they learned that they've been getting their asses handed to them on silver platters by a school boy. It's best not to ruin the surprise, though, and besides, I've got more important work to attend to.

I leave my room and head for Conference Room C. It's just down the hall, so I've got a good 15 minutes to work out a preliminary plan for how we're going to reorganize our people. First things first, I'm going to have to give up my room and start slumming it with the lower-ranking members. I'm sure that the folks down there in the prison transports are about ready for some privacy. Least I can do is help one or two of them a little bit.

Satoshi arrives a few minutes later with the Second Platoon's Platoon Sergeant as well as his direct subordinates. I don't know any of their names, but I do know that their platoon is the smallest right now. They've got room to spare, and we're going to need every bit of it.

The Platoon Sergeant is a grizzled man who introduces himself as Staff Sergeant Morioka. His hair is shorn down to the scalp and a nasty-looking scar runs diagonally across his mouth. He's an old soldier – probably fought in the war; probably hates my guts for fighting against him in it. Regardless of that, he's surprisingly receptive to my instructions. It's always a pleasant surprise when someone doesn't once bitch about my race. His subordinates follow his lead and are respectful as well. Honestly, it kind of throws me off.

It's not long before we've got a plan worked out – First and Third Platoons are going to be pissed about having less space, but there aren't a whole lot of options open. We've got to fit everyone somewhere. We're just finishing up moving supplies and hammocks around when an explosion goes off outside. It sounds like a satchel charge. And the weird thing is: I'm almost grateful when it does.

It's about damn time that _something _happened.

Satoshi and I exchange glances before sprinting out of the storeroom. We've both got our phones out in an instant. I don't know who he's calling, but I'm trying my hand at Captain Kozuki. She answers on the fourth ring.

_"Miles,"_ she says in a concerned voice. I'm too focused on figuring out what the hell is going on to get annoyed about her choice of words right now. _"We're getting reports that the Chinese Federation is attacking. Go to…"_ her instructions stop for a moment and I can hear her talking with someone else. _"Go to gate six. Try to be diplomatic about it."_ She hangs up and I drop the phone back into my pocket.

"We're going to gate number six, Satoshi," I tell him as we take a turn and start down a flight of stairs. "Apparently we've outstayed our welcome with the Chinese. Red wants us to handle it _diplomatically_." I swing the rifle off my back and hold it at a low-ready position.

"Diplomatically? You've got to be joking!"

"Her words, not mine."

"That's crazy! They just tried to blow us up!"

We reach Gate six and spread out. The only people here are a few Black Knights, one tied up and gagged and two more are lying on the floor, just rousing from getting knocked out. Satoshi goes to the pair and I get to work unbinding the other guy. He starts babbling the second the gag is off.

"It was that guard! The one in blue with the sword! He just went crazy and started attacking us!" He spouts before I can get him calmed down.

"It's alright," I tell him as I cut the last rope and help him to his feet. At least I know who I'm looking for. "Which way did he go?"

The guy looks around a bit, as though he's checking to see if his attacker is nearby. "It-it looked like he was heading for Zero's room…" The way he says it, it sounds like he thinks Zero is still here and in any sort of danger. Guess only a few of us know that he's been gone for the last couple days.

"We'll take care of him." I hold out my hand and give him a "gimme" gesture. "Give me your sidearm and have the medics check you out." He reluctantly hands over the pistol and I toss it to Satoshi. "You're with me."

We make it to Zero's private room just as the Chinese guy – he's tall with hair that I can't believe doesn't get in the way in combat – is leaving. I come to a halt a few meters away and take aim with my rifle. Satoshi slides into position right next to me, pistol at the ready. "You mind telling me _what the fuck_ is going on?" It's not so much a request as a demand; fuck diplomacy. I click the safety off and slide my finger onto the trigger.

The guy just looks at Satoshi and me. For a dude who's looking down the barrels of two guns, he looks awfully bored. It pisses me off. My first instinct is to club him in the teeth a time or twelve with the butt of my rifle. "You may come with me if you like," he says nonchalantly. Bastard sounds like he's trying to be a badass. "I swear that no harm will come to you or your allies if you stay out of my way." With that, he just walks off.

I don't hesitate. "Satoshi, get in there and check on Red and the Boss Lady. I'll stick with this son of a bitch." Sure the guy's got a sword, but its range is limited. As long as I stay far enough away, I can shoot all day and he can't do a damn thing to stop me. I fall in behind him, aiming at his back. If he as much as twitches in the wrong way, he's going to have a few new holes to breathe through. For a second there, I consider doing it anyway.

Our little stroll is a silent one. He's not big on small talk, which is fine by me. There are two things I want to ever hear from his mouth again: why he attacked us and "gurgle, gurgle, sputter, sputter, I'm dying." Well, something to that effect anyway.

He leads us through a huge set of double doors and into the office of the ambassador. The place is like a shrine to wasted space, with an enormous desk at the far end made of black polished marble and decorated with golden dragons. The ambassador stands in front of his desk and Longhair stands a short distance away, flanked by a small handful of guards. I stay further back so that I can take them all out if I have to. I'm not above shooting people in the back.

"Li Xingke, what is the meaning of this?!" the ambassador shouts in his ridiculously high-pitched voice. Somehow, it matches pretty well with the way he's dressed. But hey, at least now I know Longhair's name. All the same, I'm getting pretty attached to my nickname for him.

"Why did you recognize the USJ?" Longhair asks, completely ignoring anything resembling proper etiquette for speaking to an ambassador. "On your own, without confirmation from the Vermillion Forbidden City? Even if you are one of the High Eunuchs, that was unforgivable!" Well, I guess that explains the ambassador's voice. Poor bastard. "Just what were you planning to use Zero for?"

"I've no intention to _use_ Zero for anything!" the ambassador shoots back. He's got this strange glassy look to his eye that, in all honesty, is kind of unsettling. "Zero must be pleased in every way!" Wow. Okay, so now the dude's gone from kind of unsettling to full-on fucking creepy.

"And the Empress's feelings on this?"

"That little wench doesn't matter!" I can see Longhair tense up at that one. Probably has a crush on the Empress, though if she looks like any of the female royalty Britannia's had over the years, I can't blame him. "The absolute _law_ is that Zero shall bring happiness to _me!"_ This whole situation is starting to turn into a really confusing lesson on Federation politics and the ambassador's personal preferences. Well, I guess that second part is fairly simple. It's still something I could have happily gone my life without knowing.

And hey, lucky me, it only gets more confusing when Longhair shouts, "Supreme _traitor!_" and throws his hand forward. When he does, an as-yet hidden blade attached to a cord shoots out of his cuff and spikes the ambassador square in the throat. The guy cries out in surprise as the blade snuffs him out and he falls flat on his back. His body convulses a few times as his brain tries to catch up with what his body's telling it. The guards at Longhair's back don't even twitch, even as he reels the blade back in and it damn near cuts some of their faces off. "The Crimson Dynasty is dead."

Sure. Whatever _that_ means.

I blink a few times and take a couple more steps back. I'd have kept a bigger gap between us this whole time if I knew he had that thing up his sleeve – great pun, huh? – this whole time. I clear my throat and lower my weapon a hair. "So, uh, are we good now? You done attacking us?" I ask, legitimately confused.

"I need to speak with my homeland. Their answer will determine your fate," Longhair answers, still playing the suave cool guy and still pissing me off.

"Look, asshole, I've had it up to here with you not answering my questions. Yes or no, are you going to keep threatening my people?" I raise my weapon again and that gets the guards' attention. They all turn towards me and take aim with their weapons. Two pistols and two rifles. At best, this standoff is a pyrrhic victory for me: I put one in Longhair's dome and then go down in a blaze of glory. Might be worth it though, even if glory's never been my thing.

"You will have your answer soon enough," he tells me as he steps over the body and makes his way to the desk. He's only about 10 meters away. The shot's so easy that I'd have to _try_ to miss. "I will inform your leaders if I am told to stay my hand."

Guess Longhair likes being cryptic. Fine. He can think of new and exciting ways to be mysterious and edgy while I think of new and exciting ways to drop him like the sack of shit that he is. Close quarters, the guy could carve me up like a turkey with his sword and that little throwing blade. If it gets to that point, I'll just have to keep him far enough away that I don't have to worry about it. I've played the "fight hand-to-hand against a guy with a sword" game before. It's not fun.

The wall blew in on itself when Miller triggered the breeching charge. The way the wall flew in, it looked like some angry god had just given it a good kick. My guys charged in and did their jobs to a soundtrack of gunshots and screams. It killed me not to be going in with them. To this day, it feels wrong to lead from anywhere but the front.

"_Clear! One enemy KIA!"_ came from Kravitz.

"_Clear, 2 dead Japs, door left. Looks like a hallway."_ That was Jones.

"_Room clear, Sarge,"_ Santos reported. _"Jones is right. We've got a hallway here."_

I strode through the new hole and surveyed the room. Sure enough, there were three bodies lying on the ground, blood pooling under them. It looked like two of them were standing right next to each other, because one was sprawled across the other, katana still clutched in his grip. "Alright, people. We've got a foothold here. Santos, take your team down the hall – take it careful, huh? Penrose, your team's on rear security." I got a couple of affirmatives as my men got on their tasks. I set about the process of checking to make absolutely sure the Japs in here were dead.

I decided to save the pair for later and started searching the loner in the corner. He had three neat little holes in his chest. I didn't have to look to know that the exit wounds looked like a pulpy mess – even if the wall he was slumped against hadn't been smeared with blood, I'd seen enough of them to know for sure. The first thing I did was kick that Chinese-made assault rifle away from the body. Right then, it was all I could really do aside from that was make sure he wasn't booby-trapped.

I was kneeling in front of him when I heard rustling behind me followed by a long, slow scrape of metal on tile. I looked over my shoulder and standing there, sword in his hands and his buddy's blood soaking his clothes, was one of the Japs that we thought was dead.

The Jap lunged at me just as I started to turn, his sword arcing in low towards the spot on my body armor where the plates don't meet. I had just enough time to reverse my turn so that the blade cuts nothing but a few layers of fabric covering my armor any my rifle sling. I shoulder rolled to the side and jumped to my feet, finally managing to get turned around so that I could actually take the guy face to face.

He took offense to that and hacked at me again, this time aiming for my neck. There wasn't any time to think. There almost wasn't enough time to move. I just barely got my rifle up in time. The Jap's sword slammed into my weapon with so much force that it hit me in the face. Dazed by the impact, I dropped it. Spotting his advantage, the Jap pressed his attack even harder, determined to kill me before I did the same to him.

He slashed a few more times and I, in a display of miraculous agility that I'll never be able to replicate, somehow managed to mostly avoid the blade. I was trying to get some more distance between us when he changed up his grip on the hilt, aiming the katana's point straight at my throat, and jumped forward. I tried to juke to the side, but got tripped up on some rubble. As I fell, my non-bracing arm shot up in the air. His sword stuck in my pectoral muscle, right where it meets the deltoid at the front of the armpit, and cut through.

I was shocked at how little it hurt at first. It was just… cold. That changed in a hurry when I landed, though. I would like to say that I took the pain like a total badass and didn't even make a peep. The truth is that I screamed. Loud.

I must have blacked out for a second because the next thing I knew the Jap was straddling me, hands on the katana's hilt and a manic look on his face. Suddenly, I just didn't care. I didn't care about the pain, about the war, about the Empire. All I wanted to do was get out of this and keep that bastard from getting at me and my men.

Adrenaline is one _hell_ of an anesthetic.

I grabbed the knife that was attached to the webbing on the front of my body armor and unsheathed it. He pulled the katana free in that same instant. He was raising it high above his head for a downward spike through my combat mask when I brought the knife forward.

Now, I've never been a big fan of torture, but hamstringing someone? Yeah, it's got its uses. My knife slid through the tendons at the back of his knee, easily severing them. The Jap screamed in pain and surprise and collapsed. He dropped the sword on the way down, tried to grab at his crippled knee. I didn't give him the chance.

The instant his knee hit the ground, I bucked my hips and rolled us over. Now I had the blade pointed at _his_ face. We both knew what was about to happen. The only remaining question was where I would sink the knife.

I went for his eye.

The forehead's too sturdy to be sure of a kill. Hit with anything but a perfect dead-on angle and an ass-load of force and the blade's most likely going to slide along the bone. Sure, it'll hurt and bleed like hell, but it's not immediately fatal. The eye socket, though, is about as perfect as you can get. Thinner bone with a friendlier angle. All that's stopping a quick kill is a single eyeball, some thin bone, and the fortitude of whoever's got the knife.

My personal fortitude was anything but lacking when I brought the knife slamming down. The eye offered little resistance. The bone gave a little more, but it wasn't nearly enough. It cracked through into his brain with a wet popping-crackling sound. He didn't even have a chance to scream one last time. Deed done, I slumped sideways off the body. I didn't bother retrieving the knife. I was reaching for the radio when Penrose showed up. He forced a rag down onto the wound and shouted for a medic. "Damn, Miles," he said, looking at the Jap. "Nice kill, buddy. Doc's on his way."

I ground my teeth against the pain. "Fuck, Penrose, why don't you press down a _little_ harder next time? The hole in my shoulder doesn't quite hurt enough." I raised my uninjured arm and held my hand out to him and tried to smile. I'm pretty sure it looked more like a scowl though. Penrose grinned and clapped my hand in a sure grip.

"Quit bitching, bro. You just got yourself one kickass trophy." I think he was talking about the katana, but I'm not really sure. What I do know, though, is that I _did_ have one of my guys take the sword back to base for me. It was in my apartment when I blew the place up.

I was informed later that the katana had nicked an artery. A few fractions of a centimeter higher and I could have bled out after the fight. Thanks to the wonders of modern medical science, though, the wound was healed in a few days. I was back out on the front lines in less than a week.

"Come find me first if you're not," I tell Longhair as I slowly lower my rifle and click the safety back on. If this son of a bitch is going to keep attacking us, I want to put a stop to it quickly.

Longhair nods. "Very well then. You may leave." He starts playing with something on the desk and the guards between us move to usher me out. I turn and leave before any of them can get within arm's reach. I'm back on my cell phone before the doors shut behind me. Satoshi answers right away.

"_Vince, what the hell is going on?"_ he asks excitedly. I can hear anxious conversations in the background.

"The guy in blue just killed the ambassador," I tell him, voice calm. He relays the message to someone on his end and the commotion around him goes quiet.

"_C.C. says for you to report to Zero's room ASAP, Vince."_ Guess they want a more thorough report than that. Yippee for me. On the other hand, though, I had planned on pulling an all-night guard shift on Zero's doors tonight anyway.

I arrive a few minutes later. A couple of Black Knights are already standing guard when I get there. They let me through without a hassle when I tell them that the Boss Lady herself sent for me. Satoshi pushes off the wall inside the door when I come in. He falls in step behind me and to the side.

C.C. and Captain Kozuki are sitting on a pair of couches across from each other. A selection of firearms is laid out on the table between them. They're both looking at me. The Boss Lady is the first one to speak. "Tell us what you told Satoshi, please." Guess she doesn't mind that I didn't salute. Good thing too, because I'm not even sure if she actually _has_ rank.

"The guard who was in here – Li Xingke, I believe his name is – just assassinated the Chinese ambassador," I say in a matter of fact tone. "They were having a dispute about the ambassador's decision to recognize the USJ as a nation." I decide against going into the finer details of what was said. Weirdness like that is best left alone.

C.C. nods a few times like she knew this was coming. Maybe she did. "You saw this yourself, Vincent?"

"Yes, ma'am. It was in the ambassador's office. Xingke said that he would contact his homeland for further instructions regarding us. If they tell him to leave us alone, he'll let you know." I'll leave out my personal vendetta against Longhair, too. That kind of shit is just unprofessional.

Captain Kozuki gets uptight. "That son of a bitch!" she says, quiet but intense. She leans back in the couch with her arms crossed. She looks as pissed off as I feel, which is oddly comforting. "I should have shot him when I had the chance." I can't help but agree with her. Our lives would probably be a lot easier right now if Longhair's body was cooling on the floor.

C.C. is a lot calmer about the whole thing. "I see. Vincent, what do you suggest?"

I can think of a few things we _could_ do to alleviate the situation. Chief among them is rearranging Longhair's face and/or organ placement. Gotta stay professional, though. "Guards on all our occupied areas on hourly shifts. Satoshi and I will take over here in an hour."

A little bit later, the guards were posted and shifts were established. Satoshi and I stood in front of the door to Zero's personal quarters – kind of strange to give a room to a guy that's not even here, but we've got an image to maintain – in full kit.

We look like some kind of weird as hell museum display. His body armor is an array of Japanese custom-made stuff with some Chinese pieces thrown in for good measure – pretty much standard for resistance fighters in the area. Mine is a complete Britannian set, minus the helmet and facemask. His weapons of choice are a Chinese-made carbine and a katana. I've got the Britannian assault rifle that I snagged a few days ago and a European handgun I picked up a handful of years ago. I can imagine the looks we'd get if anyone was allowed to leave their assigned zones.

The first couple of hours are boring as hell. We pass the time by talking about everything and nothing at all. That ends the second I see Longhair coming our way. Bastard's got his cool-guy swagger turned up full blast. I put a hand out to Satoshi to let him know that I'll handle this. I step out into the middle of the hallway, right in the guy's path.

"I have a message for your superiors," he says as his long stride eats up the space between us. Looks like he isn't even going to think about slowing down.

I keep my hands on my rifle, but leave it pointed at the floor. "Give it to me and I'll relay it."

He squints a little and keeps coming. "I will deliver it personally."

"Like hell you will," I tell him with a sharp, humorless laugh. "If you think you're stepping foot in that room again until after we're long gone, you're out of your damn mind."

He stops about five meters away – within range of his throwing blade. I get ready to dodge and hope that Satoshi can read my stance. Longhair just looks at me for a bit. I can tell that he's sizing me up, like he never considered me an obstacle before, but is thinking about changing that opinion; it feels a bit like being stared down by a hawk. "Very well then," he says at last. "Tell them that the Vermillion Forbidden City has given its blessing and you will be allowed to stay for four more days. Any more than that and we will be required to hand you all over to the Britannians." Then he turns on his heel and leaves.

"I fucking hate that guy," I tell Satoshi. Longhair's not out of earshot yet, but I'm pretty far from caring. "I'll update Red and Boss Lady. Call up the other stations and let them know what's going on. Tell them to stay on guard, though."

I tell C.C. and Captain Kozuki about Longhair's message and then go back to my post. As soon as I settle back in, Satoshi asks, "So you're not Xingke's biggest fan, huh?"

Talk about mastering the art of the understatement. "Like I said earlier: fucking hate that guy."

Satoshi looks at me. "Can't say I blame you, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that I _hate_ him."

"Guess you're just a better man than I am."

"Like there's even a question about that?"

We shared a laugh at that one. It's typical soldier shit-talking. He doesn't really think he's a better man that I am and we both know it. We're just a couple of guys fighting for a cause and, every now and then, we make fun of each other just because we can. Takes our minds off the fact that we're probably going to die sometime soon.

The rest of the guard shift is boring as hell. No one passes by, we don't get any further instructions, and no one comes to relieve us. That last one's alright because I volunteered us to pull the shift all night. When morning comes, though? Shit gets pretty crazy.

I'm heading back to my room for a quick shower when my phone rings. I'm pretty damn surprised to see that the caller ID screen reads _"Zero"_. Needless to say, I answer it immediately. "This is Vincent. What do you need, sir?"

"_Good to know that you weren't injured in the incident last night, Vince,"_ He says through His voice modulator. I don't take any offense to it – cell phone signals are notoriously easy to eavesdrop on. _"I need your help with something. Based on the local terrain, where would a sniper most likely be located?"_

I go to a window and look out at the courtyard and surrounding area. A mass of people – probably Japanese – are gathered behind a police line near the Britannian staging area. I'm focused on the buildings, though. There are a lot of them; a lot of good places for a shooter to hide. Even a halfway competent sniper could hide in that mess for _days_ and never be found.

I'm pretty lucky today, though.

There's a hint of purple at the top of one of the shorter buildings about two klicks off. I pull a little monocular out of one of my pouches and hold it to my eye. Sure enough, there's a Gloucester perched there with a bigass rifle. "From my location, there's a Knightmare with a sniper rifle two kilometers out, about 50 degrees." I lean forward a bit, as though the extra few centimeters that shaves off are really going to help. "Hard to tell from here, but it looks like a Glaston Knight machine." A shiver runs up my spine at that. The Glaston Knights are all fantastic Devicers. Britannia's getting really fast at reevaluating the Black Knights' status as a minor annoyance.

I can almost hear Zero's smile. _"Perfect. Thank you, Vincent."_ He hangs up and I go back to my business. It's still a handful of hours yet before the party kicks off. But when it does? It goes off with a fucking _bang._

1500 rolls around with no fanfare. We're all pretty surprised that Zero hasn't shown up yet, but we're still confident that He'll show. There're two platoons worth of us standing just inside the courtyard gates, armed to the teeth and waiting for the word to move. Satoshi's standing next to me with a little handheld TV.

"_It's almost time for the execution,"_ the news anchor excitedly reports. _"The remaining members of the Black Knights shall feel the judgment of justice."_ Pretty lofty words for an invader, but we Britannians are known for being arrogant assholes. Still, it wouldn't hurt them to take the group of us in the embassy into account.

Guilford's next to speak. Sounds like he's addressing the crowd. He's got that self-righteous tone that leaves no room for doubt: he holds nothing but contempt for the Japanese, even if they don't support the rebellion. _"Elevens! The Zero who you believed in has not appeared!"_

"Damn, he's _really_ observant, isn't he?" I ask to Satoshi, sarcasm laid on thick.

He looks at me. "Like you said yesterday." He makes a masturbatory motion with his hand. "Likes the sound of his voice way too much." It's enough to give me a little half-smile.

"_It has all been a deception!"_ Guilford continues, trying to sound high and mighty. I'm starting to hope that I get a chance to punch his teeth down his throat. _"I challenged him to a fair and honest duel and he has skulked away like a _coward_!"_ Again, he throws the word around like it's the worst thing in the history of the universe. _"Take aim."_ The camera angle changes now to show the Knightmares that will act as the executioners as their anti-personnel machine guns spring into a ready position.

I have to put a hand on Satoshi's shoulder to keep him from jumping out and trying his luck at rushing the line. He wouldn't stand a chance, but dying like that would beat sitting here and watching our buddies die. In all fairness, my hand on his shoulder is just as much to stop him as it is to keep me in line. Even if the Knightmares didn't gun us down, there's not a whole lot we could do: the Chinese Embassy's courtyard is situated about three levels below the Settlement's street level.

I can hear people muttering all around us. They're starting to question whether or not Zero will show. I look around and say, "It's alright, people. He'll be here." All this lying's really starting to get to me. The truth is that even I'm not completely sure that Zero will show. I'm _really_ starting to wish I had a cigarette.

That all changes, except for the part about the cigarette, when His Burai rolls up to the cordon with Zero in full costume standing on the extended seat. _"You're mistaken!"_ he shouts. "_You're wrong, Guilford. Those aren't terrorists you're executing. They're the Black Knights – soldiers of the army of the United States of Japan."_

Guilford sounds shocked to say the least. _"You expect me to recognize them as prisoners of war?"_

Zero doesn't answer as His Burai starts moving towards the police line. The gates slide open as he approaches and he rolls right on past as if they can't touch him. _"It's been quite a while, Lord Guilford. Why don't you come out and we can talk about the good old days?"_

I can't help but smile a bit. Gotta admit that the guy's cocky as all hell, but Zero's got the skill to back it up. And even if He doesn't, He's got us to provide some extra muscle. My smile dies when I notice something about his Burai.

The crazy bastard didn't bring any weapons.

"_As tempting as that invitation is, I'll stay where I am. We'll just settle our past grudges from the inside of our Knightmares."_

Zero settles into His seat and it locks into the cockpit. I'm still pretty concerned about His lack of weaponry. _"How predictable of you. Let's set some rules."_

"_Rules?"_ Guilford sounds about as confused as we all feel. That Zero is going to even try to duel a Royal Knight is batshit crazy.

"_The rules of our duel. We'll settle this one on one."_ Okay, that part's not really surprising at all. That's kind of the point of a duel, after all.

"_Very well; no one else will interfere with our combat."_

"_We will each have one weapon."_ Now this thing is starting to take shape. Zero's stacking the odds in His favor – His standard MO. Can't hold it against Him, though: the only people that fight fair are folks that are looking to die.

Guilford tosses his Knightmare's rifle to the side and jettisons the MSV swords. _"Agreed,"_ he says as he twirls his Knight Lance above his head a few times. The flourish ends with the lance's point aimed directly at Zero's machine. _"I choose this as my weapon!"_ Again, it's a pretty predictable move. The Knight Lance has always been the preferred weapon of Cornelia and her people.

Zero's Knightmare points at one of the KnightPolice machines nearby. _"And for mine, I shall borrow that shield."_ Suddenly, we're all confused again. The cop's handgun I could understand, but the riot shield?

You can't win by playing defense.

Guilford's put off by Zero's choice too. _"What? But that's – "_

Zero cuts him off. _"It will do."_ All of us down at the gate crowded around Satoshi's screen, shocked into silence. He takes the cop's shield and stands behind it. Guilford's Knightmare shifts so that it's in a perfect lunging stance. _"I have a question for you, Lord Guilford. What do you do when there is an evil you cannot defeat by just means? Do you stain your hands with evil to destroy evil? Or do you remain steadfastly just and righteous, even if it means surrendering to evil?"_

I blink a few times. The question is pretty close to one that I had to ask myself before deciding to join the Black Knights. Guilford goes three for three on predictability and spins his Knightmare's wheels. The tires screech and throw up a cloud of burnt rubber. _"In the name of Cornelia, I choose _justice_!"_ he shouts as the Knightmare's wheels bite into the pavement and shoots forward.

Zero stands His ground. He's got way too much faith in that dinky shield of His. The Knight Lance can pierce straight through the shield and his cockpit block without even slowing down. _"I understand. In my case, I commit evil to destroy the greater evil!"_ It's pretty obvious what His "greater evil" is.

The distance between the Gloucester and the Burai is getting pretty short when something that sounds an awful lot like an explosion goes off and the level they're on starts shaking. Columns of dust and smoke start billowing up from the gap between the Settlement proper and the Embassy grounds. Slowly, ever so slowly, the platform they're on tilts toward us. I start laughing. "There's no fucking _way_ they fell for that again!"

The platform starts tipping faster, spilling vehicles, Knightmares, and people into – and through in some cases – each other. There's another round of squealing tires behind us. I turn in time to see the Guren and a small handful of Burais charging towards our position. "Get these gates open!" I order. We get the doors apart just in time.

Our Knightmares are out of the courtyard right after the platform's slamming halt on our level. We all want to get out there and help, but we would only be getting in the way. And that's not even taking into account all the random crap still falling from the platform. One Knightmare or tank could take half of us out if it landed in the right place.

I'm trying to maintain some semblance of order when Zero calls out to us. _"Black Knights listen! The enemy around me has fallen into our territory. Wipe out the Britannian forces and save your comrades!"_

"You heard the Man!" I shout over the crowd. "Let's get out there and free our people!" You ever see the floodgates on a dam open up? Yeah, it was kind of like that.

We charge out into the cloud of dust, using it as concealment and trying to get to what little cover there is. I'm one of the first to get to the prison transports. Satoshi's right behind me. I peek around the edge of the vehicle. I can't see much thanks to the dirt and smoke in the air. I can see a tank nearby, though. I'm keeping an eye on it when one of the side hatches swings opens.

The Britannian soldier that comes out is a mess. He's bleeding from a gash in his forehead and is gripping one arm tightly to his side. It's probably shattered. He's still got a pistol in his other hand, though, and that makes him a hostile. That status changes in a hurry when I put a couple of rounds through his chest and turn his insides into something resembling salsa. "Hurry up! Release everyone before the Brits can regroup!" I yell to the rest of the infantry. The operation's going really well for us so far, but we can't afford to take too much time.

I'm about to shoot another soldier when someone lands on my back. We go to the ground in a tangle. I'm trying to roll to the side when something slams into the back of my helmet. Hard. My head bounces off the pavement, dazing me and shooting stars across my vision. My attacker takes the advantage and wraps his arm around my neck. He's trying to choke me out.

He's trying to take me alive.

I won't allow that; there's no way in hell I _can_ allow that – I've still got too much to do. I tuck my chin as much as I can and give myself a little more breathing space. I reach one of my hands back and grope for his face. Of course, he's wearing his gas mask, so going for his eyes, nose, or mouth isn't an option. It does get his attention, though. He lets go with one of his hands and grabs onto my wrist. I can breathe easier now, but his grip's almost like a vice.

Too bad for him that it's not quite enough. I'm still a bit dazed, so I can't really do anything except stall his movement, but it's still an improvement for me. We're struggling for control of my arm when he makes a strange grunting sound and slumps forward, tension gone. I roll us over and see Satoshi standing there, katana in hand. There's blood on the blade. He holds out a hand to me and hauls me to my feet.

"What would you do without me?" he asks, cocky because he thinks he saved my ass. Just this once, he's probably right.

I shoulder past him and raise my rifle. A few rounds fly downrange and the guy that I was going to take out before I was so rudely interrupted is a corpse. I turn back to Satoshi. "Have one less jackass to deal with," I tell him. My tone is sarcastic but my face is a study in stoicism. Like I said before: I can't afford feelings in a fight.

We take a look around. The dust is slowly settling and there are only a few stragglers left from the prison transports. Satoshi and I gather them up start heading for the Embassy gates. Seems like the combat's starting to die down now that the Britannians have stopped panicking. There are still a few Sutherland jockeys firing at us from above, though. Their rifles pockmark the ground around us with hundreds of tiny craters until Red jumps her Guren on top of one of the empty transports and puts up a shield with that crazy arm of hers. That gives us the chance we need to make it to safety.

We're hauling ass for the gates when an earsplitting crack shatters the air. I dive to the ground, instinct telling me that it's a sniper. The rest of the group around me follows my lead and they hit the dirt. I glance around, seeing if anyone's hit. That's when I notice the real target.

Zero's Burai is lying on its side in front of some ugly-as-sin new gold-painted Britannian Knightmare. Both of the Burai's arms are gone and it looks like the whole damn thing's about to fall apart. I'm on my feet and sprinting again before my brain catches up. I don't know why the Brit isn't attacking, or why the sniper isn't finishing his job, or what the hell I'm going to try to do to defend Zero, but I figure I'll work something out. Can't help but feel a little concerned by all the unknowns, though.

I'm stopped in my tracks when I hear Guilford say something about an "iron hammer." I look up at the platform and there he is, hanging by the Gloucester's Slash Harkens, Knight Lance in hand. He's got the weapon raised for a javelin toss. Son of a bitch probably told the others to hold off so he could have the glory of killing Zero all to himself.

That's all I need to see to start running again. I'm moving faster than I ever have before, hoping that I can reach the Burai in time. There isn't a snowball's chance in hell that I can, but that doesn't mean I can just give up. I'm almost there when the Lance reenters my field of vision, looking like some artsy asshole's idea of a rocket. What happens next surprises everyone.

The golden Knightmare spins around and puts its hands up just in time to catch the Lance. The tip _almost_ pierces the Knightmare's faceplate. I can see smoke rising from the machine's fingers. At the speed and angle the Lance was moving, it would have torn through the head and cockpit block like they weren't even there; if he was _really_ lucky, the pilot would have ended up a red smear. Guess he's a damn good Devicer.

I can only imagine the absolute shitstorm hitting the pilot of the gold Knightmare from the other Brits in the area. The guy just executed one of the most masterful assassination cock-blocks I've ever seen – they're gonna take it hard.

It's a reprieve for the Black Knights, though: we've got our leadership back.

I'm at the hatch to Zero's Burai after a few more seconds of running. Whatever weirdness is going on between Him, that gold Knightmare, and the Britannian loyalists that have us hemmed in, my priority is getting the Boss Man to safety. I hammer on the hatch a few times. "Zero! We've got to get You out of here!"

Honestly, I can understand why our new maybe-ally gets all butthurt about the situation. I'm an armed Britannian telling Zero that He needs to be somewhere else. Given the situation, I'm sure it looks like I'm trying to arrest Him. The Knightmare shifts the Knight Lance in its hands and points the thing at me. _"Stay away from Him!" _the Devicer shouts, voice amplified by the external speakers. Amplified or not, I can tell that the voice is that of a kid. A young kid. I gape up at the Knightmare for a moment, shocked. I suddenly realize that however bad this war was before, it's only going to get worse.

Zero must have called the kid from their own private circuit, because he starts talking to someone else all of a sudden. He's kind enough to forget about the externals, though, so I can hear his half of the conversation. _"But, brother… I thought… But he… Very well, then."_ The Knightmare tosses the Lance aside and helps the Burai to its feet. I scramble up onto its shoulder and stand next to the head as we roll back to the embassy gates.

I can't help it; this looked so hopeless earlier, but we still came out on top. I turn around so that I'm facing what's left of the Britannian lines. I'm grinning like an idiot when I raise my hand and give them a one-finger salute. It's crass and childish and stupid, I know, but there are times where you have to be excessively, blisteringly professional and there are other times where you can afford to be that asshole.

Given the circumstances, I figure this is one of the latter.

That night is, to put it lightly, fucking crazy. It started off simply enough: just a bunch of comrades meeting again after over half of them had been taken prisoner for a year. Teary eyes and hugs and rousing laughter go all around. Well, almost all around. Satoshi and I spend a little while looking for the small handful of men and women that comprise my team. It isn't until we run into Deputy Commander Ohgi that we learn the truth.

He's still in his prisoner outfit. Guy looks like he'd been through the wringer and smells like he hasn't bathed in entirely too long. It's not surprising, really. Britannia isn't known for treating POWs with anything resembling kindness. He's surrounded by some of the other original Black Knights – Red included – and the remaining Four Holy Swords. I walk up and shake his hand. He and I have never really got along all that great, but there's no animosity between us. "It's good to have you back, sir," I tell him.

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. "Thank you, Vincent. It's good to be back." He smiles, but I can't help but notice that there's something off about the smile; like there's something more he wants to say, but doesn't know how to say it. I feel my stomach drop a little. "I've got some bad news for you."

Now my stomach fills with ice water and falls a few hundred feet. Here it comes. I had a feeling that it was going to be this way, but I still hoped, you know? "Your people – Otonashi and the others – the Britannians found out what division they were with." At least he's got the balls to look me in the eye when he tells me. "They were executed."

I nod a few times. We all knew what would happen if any of us got captured. You can't get information out of people like me – people like those that I train. It'd take years of constant torture to get anything more than our name, rank, and unit. I guess the Brits figured that they didn't need to worry about us that much. "At least it was quick," I tell him. It's about the best consolation any of us can hope for.

The Deputy Commander opens up his mouth to say something, but seems to think better of it. He nods sadly a few times. He can't meet my eye when he does. That iciness in my stomach grabs onto my throat. It wasn't quick for some of them, then. "Thank you, sir," I tell him, somehow managing to keep most of the icy loss I feel out of my voice.

Satoshi's a little more open up about his reaction. I can see him shaking as I turn away from the Deputy Commander. The look on his face is one of pure hatred. I put a hand on his shoulder and lead him away. This isn't something for the brass to see. My team's business is between us, even when the team is just Satoshi and me.

We don't get a chance to talk about it until after the sun's gone down. Most of the Black Knights are hanging out in one of the Embassy's gardens. A fair few of them are throwing their jumpsuits up into the air and cheering. I can tell already that this party is going to get wild. Not even half of them are getting into their Black Knight uniforms and the alcohol's already getting passed around.

Satoshi and I are sitting on a section of roof above the garden. We've got a bottle of _sake _that we're passing back and forth. We're both still a _long_ ways off from anything remotely resembling drunk, but that's okay. This isn't about getting hammered; it's about remembering our fallen.

We sit there quietly for a while, just passing the bottle back and forth. The party's going full strength under our swinging feet. Folks are starting to get into their proper uniforms and breaking up into groups. It's good to have everyone back, but even with the space that we cleared out earlier, we won't have enough room for everyone. We need to clear out of the embassy soon. I shake my head to scatter those thoughts. I've got more important matters.

I take the bottle and raise it to the sky. "To Otonashi," I say before taking a drink and handing it to Satoshi.

He takes it and imitates me. "To Koizumi." It comes back to me.

"To Hibiki."

"Gatou."

"Ito."

"Arakaki."

The briefing was in a warehouse on the waterfront. Back then, we only had a small handful of troops – still too inexperienced to even be called soldiers, really – and even fewer Knightmares. Honestly, we were just an annoying little scratch that Britannia couldn't quite get rid of. I remember hoping that this meeting would change that for good.

I really was full of myself back then.

Everyone went silent when I walked in behind Zero. Not the kind of silent that you're thinking of, though: the kind where you can still hear rustling or coughing or a few hasty whispers. No, this was the kind of silence that you can only find in a tomb or, as in this case, a room full of Japanese people who hate Britannians when one walks in the room wearing their uniform. Zero stood on a little platform at the head of the group. I stood next to him, hands clasped behind my back.

Zero was silent for a second while He stared out at the crowd. "Black Knights," He started in a powerful voice, "I'm sure you all remember the Britannian raids on our weapons caches two weeks ago." There were a few mutterings of confused assent. Even I had to admit that it was a weird place to start. "The intelligence that allowed us to prevent disaster came from this man." He held His hand out towards me and I started sweating. I hadn't quite expected He would put me on the spot like that.

"This is Vincent Miles." I cringed at the mention of my last name. Zero obviously had a _lot_ of faith that His people wouldn't turn me in. "He has defected from the Britannians and now stands before you, seeking the same thing you all are: freedom for the Japanese!" The way He said it, it sounded like He expected applause.

If that's really what He wanted, the Black Knights let Him down.

He didn't let it faze Him, though, and He continued on in that same commanding tone. "Vincent will be joining the Mikihara team. His experience will be of considerable advantage to our cause." And just like that, He stepped off the platform and left. I felt like my only lifeline had been yanked out of my hands. I'm proud to say that I didn't let it show, though. I stayed where I was until a guy emerged from the crowd. He was a little bit taller than me, just a hair under my weight, and his black hair was long enough to reach past his eyes.

The guy walked right up to me and stopped in arm's reach. The way he was scowling at me, I was expecting him to swing at me. "You do not look so special to me," he told me with heavily-accented disdain.

"Care to test it?" I challenged, perfectly confident that I could beat his ass to a pulp.

He just stood there for a little bit, staring me down. I responded by looking him right in the eyes. There was no way in hell I was going to let myself be cowed by these novices. "Another time, perhaps," he finally said. "I am Mikihara Satoshi. You will take orders from me."

_Not fucking likely,_ I thought, still shocked that this guy was in command of his own team. "Only so long as your orders won't get everyone killed, sure." I shrugged and relaxed.

That made him smile a little, which was surprising. The rest of his team walked up then and he introduced each of them in turn. My confidence in winning a fist fight diminished with each arrival. It wasn't that any one of them could take me, but they sure as hell could if they ganged up – there's only so much one man can do against seven. "We have a mission tonight. Get ready and meet us here after sundown," Satoshi told me before he and his group left me to my own devices. That was the first time I ever met any of them; the first step on a very long road.

That night, we conducted what the military calls "preparing the field." It's another nice little euphemism they like to use. Generally speaking, it's getting into a soon-to-be operational area and making it more advantageous for you and yours. For us, that meant planting some explosives and disrupting some security equipment. All in all, it was a successful, uneventful mission.

Back in the present, Satoshi takes another pull from the bottle. A long one. I can see his eyes water when he swallows, and I'm not sure if it's from the _saké _or the memories. He hands it to me. "Let them never be forgotten," I say as I raise the bottle one final time. _Here's to you, guys._ I'm draining what little is left in the bottle when Satoshi speaks again.

"I'll make them pay," he says quietly. He's not trying to hide it any more. Tears are rolling down his face. Our team had been like a family before they were captured. We had to be, with the missions we were sent on. We had to trust each other completely. "I'll make every single one of those Britannian bastards pay for what they've done."

I set the empty bottle down next to me. "No, Satoshi," I say with a sigh. I know how he feels: I feel the same way. That storm of grief and rage and pure destructive impulse that _screams_ for you to do something, anything, to lash out at the people responsible. "You won't 'make them pay.' You'll keep on fighting and you'll honor their memories by doing things the right way."

He looks at me, shocked. "How can you say that?" He's got every right to be pissed at me right now, and he's exercising that right to its fullest. "They were your friends too! And aren't you the one always saying that fair fights are only for the suicidal?"

Great. He took it the wrong way. I figured he'd be pissed about me telling him not to go on a rampage over their deaths. "You know me, Satoshi; there's right, and then there's _right._" I sigh again. I'm getting to the point where I would do just about anything for a cigarette and this conversation isn't helping. "What we're doing? This whole war for independence? That's the _right_ way. So long as we don't target civilians, we'll do whatever we can to make sure our team didn't die for nothing."

Satoshi looks down and focuses on something beneath the garden below us. "I miss them," he admits, voice twisted by pain.

All I can do is put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you do, bro."

Oh, yes. I know that feeling very well.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, no bullshit. I cannot apologize enough for not getting this chapter finished earlier. Between training, drinking, playing Star Wars: The Old Republic, drinking, working on a new RP with some friends (details to follow as we get closer to the grand opening), and more drinking, I just got caught up in entirely too much stuff all at once. Still, that's no excuse. I promise that I'll work harder at getting these chapters put out on a timelier basis from now on. Also, I'll try to stop ending them on depressing notes. With that said: by the time you, dear reader, set eyes on this, Chapter IV: _Vanishing Act_ will be well under way. As always, stay tuned and thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Vanishing Act

**Code Geass**

**The Millionth Miracle**

BontaKun117

**Chapter IV: Vanishing Act**

* * *

We're still sitting on the roof when Zero finally emerges from His meeting with Red and the Boss Lady. There're about three seconds where everyone is excited to see Him, then Captain Chiba takes it upon herself to ruin the mood. She's _really_ good at that. Commander Asahina is right behind her and starts demanding an explanation from the Boss Man. Honestly, even I'm offended at that. For a subordinate to demand _anything_ of their leadership – especially when that leadership is Zero – is the kind of thing that Britannia would have a guy executed for. It's still hard for me to make the transition sometimes.

Again, Zero shows of His inability to be surprised. "Everything is for victory over Britannia," He says. Simple enough, but it's hardly the explanation that anyone is expecting.

That dumbass Tamaki tells Him to go on and give us a little bit more. I feel the hairs on my neck stand up. This insubordination trend is starting to piss me off.

"That's all." Everyone down in the garden starts getting all hot and bothered about it. I'm willing to bet that the only reason we don't have a mutiny on our hands right then and there is because of General Todoh and Deputy Commander Ohgi. Gotta admit, those two are pretty damn good at defusing situations, which is surprising if you ask me. General Todoh isn't exactly known for being a great debater.

Luckily, DC Ohgi is there to pick up the slack, and it's not long at all before all the Black Knights down in the courtyard are shouting _Zero!_ over and over again. While they're chanting, Zero looks up at me. "Vincent, a word if you would be so kind," He says.

All I can do is look stupid and offer a confused "yes, sir." I didn't think He knew I was up here. Satoshi and I look at each other and I see that he's just as surprised as I am. I swear there are times when it seems like Zero's fucking psychic. That, or He's just so perceptive that He makes even the most detail-oriented folks look like unobservant morons. I know it's probably option B, but I can't help but wonder sometimes.

He's already back in the office by the time I get there. His cape is draped over a chair and His mask is sitting on the desk. Seeing it sitting there is kind of creepy, actually; too easy to imagine that there's still a head in it. Zero – or should I call Him Lelouch? His Highness? Hell, I don't know anymore – is sitting behind the desk doing His best impression of a patient evil mastermind. He's hunched over a little bit, elbows resting on the table and fingers woven together in front of his mouth. C.C. is lounging on a couch. Looks like they were having some kind of discussion.

"I need your help with a matter of some importance, Vince," He tells me, waving a hand to the chair across from C.C.'s couch. I take a seat in it and find that, while padded like nothing I've ever sat in before, it's not comfortable at all. "In order to maintain continued operational security, I will need to leave tonight." This is one thing that I'll always love about the Boss Man: He gets right to the heart of the matter with me. "There is a maintenance corridor that will allow for covert access back into the Settlement proper."

So that's how the gaudy Knightmare got away. I was wondering about that. "You want Satoshi and me to take a look at it, make sure there aren't any surprises waiting for You, sir?" I ask. I could probably do it myself, but Satoshi needs a distraction right about now.

Zero smiles. "Precisely, Vince. Once I've made it back to a safe area, the two of you are to remain hidden until called for again."

Bam. Nailed it.

"Yes, sir. We'll head out immediately." I stand up to leave, but he holds up his hand. Guess He's not done with me yet.

"There is one other matter, Vince."

I take my seat again and wait for Him to continue.

"At this point, only a select few of our organization know My true identity. For reasons that I'm sure you understand, we need to keep the truth confidential."

"Then what You said back at Babel Tower is true… You really are Prince Lelouch."

He tenses up at that. It's not very often that I get one up on the Boss. Have to admit that it's not a great feeling. "Yes, I am. I've been going by the name Lelouch Lamperouge since the end of the war. You no doubt know that Lelouch vi Britannia is counted among the dead."

I go to the door and look over my shoulder. "Guess that makes us two of a kind, doesn't it, sir?" I ask Him. C.C. actually smiles at that. "I'll call You when Satoshi and I are done with our sweep, sir. And don't worry about Your identity getting out. I won't tell a soul."

I close the door behind me as I leave. Just before it whispers shut, I hear C.C. say something about Zero not using 'it', whatever 'it' is. Probably talking about whatever it was that made all those OSI bastards off themselves. I'll have to ask Him about that at some point, but it'll wait until later. Satoshi and I have a job to do, after all.

I call him and brief our mission and we're linked back up some short minutes later. He still looks like hell, but he's got purpose back in his eyes. The kid's got a lot of heart, that's for damn sure. When I ask him if he's going to be alright, he just nods. He's all grim determination and barely suppressed rage. It's a bit of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, the determination'll help him in ways that I don't even have to mention. On the other, he's got to keep a tight hold on that rage. One slip up, one moment in a firefight when he's not thinking clearly, and he's done.

I'm worrying about that the entire time we're getting ready for our little operation. We've got to leave our kit with our allies and scrounge up some maintenance worker uniforms. It's a surprisingly annoying task. Evidently the Chinese don't believe in keeping spare uniforms handy.

We do eventually find a couple, though. It's not much of a disguise, but I've had to make do with worse before. The fact that it's a dark night should help us from being too easily identified, too. With luck, the Britannians have yet to set any traps and it'll just be a simple stroll. As we make our way down the maintenance corridor, flashlights cutting through the darkness, it seems like luck is on our side in spades.

And then this happens:

There are two doors leading out into the night. One is a large garage door, meant for vehicles, work loaders, and Knightmares. The other is for pedestrians like Satoshi and me. The garage door is closed and locked, which is good. The small door is, weirdly enough, wide open. Satoshi and I stack on opposite sides of it with our pistols drawn. I hold up three fingers to Satoshi and give him a countdown.

_Three…_ We haven't been working together long, but we both know what the other is most likely to do in a given situation. _Two… _That's why all I have to do is give him a silent countdown. _One…_ He knows that once the last finger is down and I shake my fist, he's supposed to go through first and check left. _NOW!_ He's barely through the doorway when I swing around to follow him.

I don't make it through the door.

As soon as I swing around and expose myself, a pair of gunshots goes off. One round takes Satoshi in the leg and he hits the pavement with a shout. The second round hits my pistol. It doesn't hit my hand or forearm or even graze my fingers. It actually hits my fucking pistol. The gun tears spinning out of my fingers, wrenching my thumb back into an angle it wasn't meant for. I'm forced to duck back into cover, holding my hand and suppressing a shout of pain.

I can hear Satoshi moaning outside, then he growls a little bit and I hear him say something in Japanese. I'm not sure, but I think it translates roughly to 'son of a bitch', 'shithead', 'mother fucker', or some other similar term of abuse. I glance around the doorway just enough to see him raise his pistol. I'm about to tell him to stop acting like a moron and get his ass back in the corridor when a third round knocks the gun out of his hand. This time I pay attention to the report. It's a Britannian sidearm.

In all my years, I've only ever seen one person with such unerring aim with a pistol. If the shooter is who I think it is, then this whole situation is about to get a _lot_ fucking worse. I decide to take a chance; I know how he likes to fight, and I can, hopefully, figure out where he is.

I take a step back and dive out of the door at an angle. Just before I land, I start a roll and come up sprinting. I've got to change direction a few times, but sure enough I find him. He's kneeling behind a trashcan, sidearm stabilized on its lid. I juke left, then right. Some bullets whiz past me as I come closer and I know that he's just playing with me. He could take me out in a heartbeat if he wanted to. Another quick combat roll and I'm back on my feet, right next to his trashcan.

I pull my fist back for a haymaker and our eyes meet.

I brought my fist forward and really threw my hips into it, but he deflected it easily and backed off a few steps, smiling.

"Trainee Miles! What the fuck was _that_?!" Sergeant Barton screamed. Penrose and I stopped and looked at the sergeant. "How's about you just fucking _tell him_ what you're planning to do next time?" Barton crossed the mat in a few long strides. Before I knew what was happening, his fist was in my gut and I was gagging for air. "_That_ is how you fucking hit, get it?! You've gotta surprise your enemy with it. Otherwise you end up dead." Sergeant Barton really was such a gentle soul.

That's sarcasm, by the way.

I was able to choke out a "yes, Sergeant!" despite the lack of proper diaphragm function. All the while, Penrose just stood there smiling at me like an asshole. He didn't drop his guard, though. He was too smart for that – knew that I was able to fight even though I could barely breathe.

Sergeant Barton nodded and got back off the mat while I brought my breathing back into its regular rhythm. It only took a few seconds, but Penrose managed one of those cliché "come-on" hand gestures. He always was a cocky son of a bitch.

Then again, his arrogance was kind of warranted. Back then, we were the only people in our Selection class that had never beaten each other. Even the most evenly matched guys would win some and lose others. He and I just hit a wall though. It was like we both knew what the other was thinking before he thought it.

If that made any sense at all in any way, please let me know. It confused the hell out of me back then and has continued to do so in the intervening years.

Anyway, back to the fight: I lunged in with a quick little right-hand feint. He slapped my hand away, but was so focused on it that he missed my left. It caught him on the side, right in that irritating little floating rib. He grunted, which was about the best win I could ever get from him, but stayed his ground.

Penrose tried to return the favor with a knee to my wide-open crotch. I only barely managed to block it by bringing my own leg up and letting him hit my thigh instead. I managed to escape the brunt of the pain by spinning with the hit. When I came back around, I threw another left-handed punch. I caught him pretty good in the shoulder with it, but it was hardly a useful hit. His fist snapped forward and whitened my vision for a fraction of a second.

I felt something flowing out of my nose, but I couldn't spare the time to check what it was. I was sure I would find out sooner or later. He threw another punch. I managed to catch his wrist and tried to give it a savage twist. He was a little too fast for that, though, and slipped out. Again, we squared off, circling each other and looking for the opening that would give the definitive advantage.

Penrose was the first to strike this time. He tossed an off-hand jab at me. I ducked it and shot forward, tackling him to the ground. When we landed, I was in the mount, and I couldn't help but grin. It was time for a little ground-and-pound. I sat up and started in on him. My punches rained down on him, but he's a damn good blocker. I hit his raised forearms more often than his face.

Needless to say, I got tired of that in a hurry. I grabbed his wrists in one hand and planted them against the mat above his head. The other I brought way back for the knockout. I was so damn sure I had this sparring session in the bag, too.

All the way until he bucked his hips and flipped me over his head. Penrose always did have some crazy lower-body strength. I rolled on my shoulder and came up to my feet with my back to him.

Having your back to your opponent is never a good idea.

So I did something he didn't expect: I kept my back towards him, but only long enough for a quick backwards snap kick. I don't know how – I was facing the wrong direction, remember? – but the bastard managed to catch the kick. The next thing I knew, pain was arcing up my calf from my ankle, which he was twisting like a champ. My only option was to roll with it.

We were back on the mat, this time with me on bottom and him in my hastily-erected guard. I squeezed on his torso as hard as I could with my legs, but that only made him go harder. To be fair, my own answer would have been the same.

The fight went on and on like that for what seemed like hours – it was only minutes, really, but that's how it goes when you're fighting with all you've got. Just a constant back and forth with neither of us able to actually gain any kind of real advantage. When Sergeant Barton finally called the match yet another draw, we realized that the entire class and even the instructors were circled around our portion of the mat.

We were both sweaty and bloody, heaving for breath and ready to go some more, bruised and battered and absolutely loving life. It was then that I finally wiped my nose. To absolutely no one's surprise, my hand came away smeared with blood. Penrose held out his hand to me and I took it. We shook and gave each other the kind of hug you save for a brother after you whoop each other's ass.

Something tells me there won't be a friendly hug-it-out at the end of this particular fight, though.

I bring my fist forward, aimed right at the side of his head. I don't know if it's because we haven't sparred in over a year and he's rusty or just that he wasn't expecting it to be _me_, but my fist actually connects and hammers him to the ground. He tries to raise the pistol and point it at me, but he's slow and shaky after having his bell rung. I boot the gun away. Now that it's not an issue, I can focus on causing as much harm as possible as quickly as possible.

I raise my foot over his chest, hoping to stomp him flat like a cockroach. He's too fast for that, though, and he rolls away. My foot slams into the pavement and I feel the shock shoot painfully up my leg. Penrose is back on his feet in roughly the same amount of time it takes to blink. He backs off a few paces and raises his fists, that shit-eating grin on his face like he was born with it. "Vincent fucking Miles," he says as we circle each other. "Saw you at the Embassy earlier, buddy. Flippin' the bird to all us poor soldiers wasn't nice, but hey, at least you're lookin' pretty damn good for a dead fellow."

Well there go my hopes that he wouldn't recognize me. There isn't even a point to lying about it: he knows the truth by how I fight. "Nice to see you again, Duncan," I tell him in a voice that makes it clear that I'd really rather he'd been _anywhere_ else tonight. "You're losing your edge." Is he really? Not fucking likely, but I'm hoping I can give myself a few more seconds to find that ever-elusive opening.

He shatters my hopes and throws a snap kick my way, aimed at my inner thigh. I grab his foot and use his momentum against him. I spin him around so that his back is facing me and lunge in, trying for a good old-fashioned headlock. I almost get it, too, up until he gives me what he calls the "Supersonic Elbow." Makes sense that he calls it that, now that I know what it feels like: kinda like getting hit by a brick moving at roughly Mach 2.

In short: it's a _really_ shitty feeling.

I lose my grip and stumble back a few steps. My leg hits the trash can and I fall to my back, gasping like a fish out of water. I can't afford to let a little thing like lack of oxygen stop me, though, because he's turned around and diving my way. I put my foot up and send him tumbling over me. He lands awkwardly about a meter away. I'm not completely sure, but I think I hear some kind of wet pop when he hits the pavement.

I'm scrambling back to my feet when another gunshot echoes through the night. Penrose and I both snap our heads towards the sound and find Satoshi leaned up against a wall, pistol in hand. Penrose growls out a curse as he jumps up to his feet and runs for it, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Satoshi tracks him with the pistol until he disappears around a corner.

Now that I've got some freedom, I run over to Satoshi. There's a trail of blood leading from where he landed to where he is now. The pool's already spreading underneath his leg. "Why didn't you shoot him?" I ask as I tear a sizeable strip of cloth from my shirt. "I trained you better than that, damn it!" It sounds like I'm mad at him, but it's not like that at all.

I'm pissed off at myself.

Satoshi tosses the gun aside. "It's fucked," he tells me rather eloquently. Not surprising, really. Guns are meant to send bullets, not receive them. "I aimed at his chest, but the round went _wiiild!_" I'm tying the makeshift bandage around his leg rather roughly as he gets to the end of the sentence. At least he doesn't cry out – we've drawn enough attention for now.

"Alright, well at least he's gone, huh? Let's get the fuck out of here." The last thing I need is to have to explain to the police what happened here. I pick Satoshi up and settle his arm over my shoulder. "Where's the nearest safehouse?"

He groans as we stand up. "Shit! A little more gentle, please?" We're moving before he even starts to tell me where we're going. I know where it is but this is a check for head trauma too. "It's a few blocks away. Nobel Arms apartment complex, room one-one-four."

"Good."

It's slow going, getting to the safehouse with Satoshi gimping along, but at least there isn't any traffic. This late at night, damn near everyone's asleep. I wait until we get to the apartment to call Zero. I can't spare time to give Him a full report, so I just tell Him to take a security detail when He leaves to… wherever He's going.

Honestly, I can't even remember exactly what I told Him. My main focus is helping Satoshi. I've got to get him patched up before he goes into shock or bleeds out. The bullet missed his femoral artery – which is damn near miraculous – but we're still on a time limit. I lay him on the dining table and rush to grab the first aid kit. It's stashed under the bed with some other survival gear. I'm suddenly _really_ grateful that I helped set this one up: I know what our inventory here is and where everything is hidden. A rifle and four full magazines hidden in the couch, a few grenades stashed under the refrigerator, a set of NVGs in a plastic bag in the toilet's reservoir, and a few other odds and ends that should help us get out of here alive.

By the time I get back to the dining room, blood's starting to drip off the table and pool on the floor. Satoshi's breathing heavy and has his face pinched in concentration. He's fighting off the pain as best as he can. I give him a couple light taps on the face with my palm. "You're gonna be alright, buddy. Just stay with me."

His eyes shoot open. "Your bedside manner sucks, Vince," he tells me through clenched teeth as I start on his leg. First thing's first: tourniquet to slow the bleeding. He growls a little when I lift his leg to put the thing on. The growl turns into a full-fledged shout when I start wrenching it down. One of his hands starts grabbing at the air, the table, me, _anything_. Anything he can grab and hold. There isn't really a reason for it, but it's something I've seen countless soldiers in do. His hand finally latches onto my shoulder and he squeezes like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

He's got some impressive strength, considering he just got shot.

I give the tourniquet a final twist and he cries out again. "Almost done, buddy. Just a little longer," I say, just making sure that he knows he's being taken care of – that the pain's got a purpose. The blood flow out of his wounds slows to a minor trickle. After the tourniquet's secured, I cut the bloodied strip of my shirt from around the holes. I don't know who the shirt belonged to originally, but I don't think they'll be wanting it back now; I drop the shred on the floor. It's shortly joined by the remains of his pant leg. I use what seems like most of the aid kit's gauze just wiping blood from the wound.

I've still got enough to wrap his leg a few times, though. This isn't the first time I've been happy that my perception wasn't reality, but it still kind of surprises me. I finish off with a pressure bandage wrapped over the gauze to hold it in place as well as, you guessed it, keep pressure on the bullet holes. I bend his knees so that it looks like he's about to do some sit ups on the table and take a step back, suddenly exhausted.

When was the last time I slept? Or ate? I can't remember. Satoshi's eyes open up again. He's pale and it looks like he's having a hard time focusing on me. "What now?" he asks in a voice that, despite its shakiness, is pure determination. He really is one _tough_ son of a bitch.

It's a good question. There's a trail of blood going straight from where we had our run-in with Penrose right to the safehouse. A half-blind-half-retarded monkey could follow that. It wouldn't surprise me at all if company was on the way. "We need to move. The sooner the better," I tell him as I start digging through drawers. It's gotta be here somewhere…

I'm still searching when the table creaks. I don't have to look to know that he's trying to get up. "Lay back down, moron. Move around too much and you'll go into shock; do that and you'll be useless."

He sighs and the table creaks again. And then, finally, I find it. I can't help but scowl at it a little. "Shit, was I seriously smoking _these_ back when we set this place up?" They're a Japanese off-brand of Britannian cigarettes. The Britannian ones taste like ass and these knock offs are even worse. That doesn't stop me from lighting up, though. Sometimes you've got to pretend that a few milligrams of nicotine can take the place of rest and food. I move about the apartment while I smoke the thing, gathering up the useful supplies: the rifle and its spare magazines, the NVGs, and a flak vest that was hidden in the closet in a duffle bag. I'm about to grab Satoshi and get the hell out when there's a pounding at the door.

_Shit._

A look through the peephole reveals a pair of cops. The cigarette falls from my lips as I try to think my way out of this. The lights are on, so I can't just pretend that no one's home. I could try to shoot them through the door, but I'd probably only manage to take one out before the other got to cover. If I ask them to help my hurt friend, they'll see the gear laid out on the coffee table…

I decide that, maybe, that last one has some merit. I put on my best _Oh-Thank-You-So-Much-Officer_ face and swing the door open. "Officers, thank god you're here!" I say as I step aside to let them in. "My friend and I just got mugged – he's been shot!" The cops storm past me without a glance and, strangely, uncomfortably, I feel something in me stir… and it smiles.

"There were reports of gunfire," the first one says as he looks around. The second one is a step behind him. "What were you two doing near the Chinese Consulate?" he asks as I snake my arms around the second's neck. He's got maybe half a second to react before I snap his neck like an old stick.

He's too slow.

The first one hears the wet crackling of his buddy's spine and nerves severing and spins around, hand going instantly to his holstered sidearm. Number Two hasn't even landed before I step around him and grab the back of Number One's head. His face meets my knee at a speed that the nose wasn't designed to handle. It spreads wide on his face as it breaks, pouring blood and snot like a faucet in hell. The force of the knee shoots his head up and he's standing for a second with tears and other assorted fluids streaming down his face.

I follow with a straight-arm punch to his throat. I can feel his windpipe and vocal cords shatter under my fist. The pain and shock of being attacked so violently drops him to his knees. He clutches at his throat, trying to do something about not being able to breathe. I'm looking around for something heavy and hard to smash his skull in with when one of his hands moves. I'm expecting it to go for the gun, but he surprises me and reaches for his radio's handset.

It's an older model – still connected by a wire. That works just fine for my purposes. I snatch the thing off his vest and wrap it around his throat while a few quick stutter-steps bring me around behind him, where I jam my knee into his back and slam him to the ground. My knee's right in the small of his back when we land and it forces the wind out of him while I _pull_ on the wire around his neck. It's elastic enough to be a massive pain the ass as a makeshift garrote. I let off on pulling for a second and get better purchase on the cord before wrenching it tight again.

His hands go for it, trying to pull it a little looser. I've got it stretched to the limit, though. It's not long before he slips into unconsciousness. It's even shorter after that before he quits breathing. The twitching stops a little after that. I let go of the radio and stand, breathing heavily. I spare a look at Number Two.

The guy's lying on the floor in the sprawled, boneless manner of a person whose brain doesn't communicate with the rest of his body anymore. Were he alive, he couldn't be a threat no matter how bad he wanted to. No chance of that, though. His eyes are open to the ceiling, blank and unblinking. Dead. His face is frozen in a tableau of confused shock.

With both enemies taken care of, I glance outside. Their patrol car sits nearby, lights flashing red and blue in the early morning darkness. No one else is in sight, though. The door's just about shut when Satoshi calls out from the kitchen, "Vince? What's going on?"

"We've got transport," I tell him when I get back to his side. "Now come on. We've got to move." I lift him off the table and take him out the front door, past the two dead cops.

He whistles. "Damn." I'm setting him into the passenger seat of the car when he asks, "You're one hardcore son of a bitch, you know that? I hope I never have to fight you."

Again, that cold and alien thing in the back of my mind smiles and I almost drop Satoshi. "Just shut up, would you?" I ask him, more than a little uncomfortable with this new feeling of mine.

Could it be that I'm actually… starting to like this shit? I can't help but wonder about it as I roughly drop Satoshi into the squad car's passenger seat. _No,_ I decide, not sure if it's the truth or if I'm just lying to myself. _I hate killing. This isn't the way humans were meant to live._

We're on the highway, speeding past the few other motorists on the road before my mind presents me with a new thought. _Are you sure?_ I ask myself with a barely-suppressed shudder. _You _are_ awfully good at it._

Satoshi saves me from that line of thinking. "Where are we going, Vince?" He sounds worried. "You just passed the exit to the ghetto."

Shit, I was really zoned out. "Yeah, sorry. Don't know what I was thinking."

Who am I trying to kid? I know exactly where I was trying to go. There's an exit about two klicks away. Take that, then the third right, an immediate left, head up to the 10th floor. Apartment number 1016. I wonder how much money they spent on remodeling the place after I blew it to hell.

"You're a shitty liar," Satoshi grunts. He shifts in his seat a little – looks like he's trying to get his leg in a more comfortable position. Can't say I blame him: the whole thing probably feels like it's on fire. Once he situates his leg more to his liking, he points out the window toward a cluster of skyscrapers. "That was where you lived, wasn't it?"

I could play stupid here, pretend I can't tell which building he's pointing at, or act like he's got the wrong area. I could just keep my mouth shut. But I don't. "Yeah," I tell him. I leave out the part about it being over a year and a lifetime ago. A little bit of quick thinking saves me from having to explain any more. "There's a hospital up ahead that treats Japanese patients." I can only hope that it's still open.

It isn't long before we arrive at the hospital. I've got a lie made up for the receptionist by the time I've found a parking space: I'm a cop, formerly a Medic in the Britannian Army. Found this Eleven on my way home from the station. He'd been mugged by some other Elevens hopped up on Refrain and they shot him in the leg when he tried to fight them off. I rehearsed it with Satoshi a few times as we pulled up to the hospital.

I can't tell if the receptionist falls for it hook, line, and sinker or if she just doesn't give a damn anymore. She looks Britannian, but her eyes have the characteristic almond-shape of Japanese birth. She looks tired, but in a way that's more than just run-of-the-mill physical exhaustion. She looks worn down, like every part of her is weary. She looks like she's a few short steps from giving up. Still, she's got a job to do. "Very well then, my lord," she says with a bow of her head, and it makes me want to pop her in the nose.

Goddamn, do I hate that '_my lord_' shit. I'm nobody's lord except my own. I can' tell her that, though; can't break character. I swallow the anger while she gets some nurses to come along and move Satoshi to the ER. I let them take him off my shoulder and watch as they cart him away on a gurney.

When I finally turn away from the desk, the few scattered Japanese in the waiting area flinch and act like they weren't watching me. It's probably the first time they've ever seen a Britannian actually helping one of them. Correction: all but one of them. There's a little girl sitting with an older man, probably her father, in a corner of the room.

He's looking at the floor like he can see his future in it and he doesn't like what he sees. The girl, though…she's maybe eight or nine. Delicate features and skin that'd be flawless if it weren't for the dirt and grime. Her hair, blacker than night, is cut into a short bob and her slender fingers, laid flat on her lap, are caked in filth. I'd be willing to bet that she's got more callouses on those hands than I have on my own.

And she's looking right at me.

More than that, she's looking me in the eye. Even this far away, maybe six or seven meters, I can see the cataract that's forming in her left eye. I could ignore her; take a seat somewhere else in the waiting room and pretend to read one of the three-day-old newspapers. I could shout and tell her to quit staring at me, use my assumed power to keep her from drawing any more attention to me. But I don't. Why? Well – to put it simply – I'm a complete dumbass sometimes.

Instead I walk right over to where she's sitting. Her eyes follow me the whole way. The old man's shaking like crazy by the time I'm standing in front of the girl. He doesn't lift his view from the floor when he stammers, "P-p-p-please, my lord, s-she means no, uh, no offense. Her mo-"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it," I tell him with a dismissive wave. "And quit with the 'my lord' shi… crap." Little ears around. Gotta watch what I say.

"Y-yes, my… uh?" He's confused now that he isn't calling me his lord.

I turn my attention back to the little girl. "Hi there. What's your name?" I put on my most friendly face, but I somehow doubt it's very convincing.

"Hikari," she tells me in a high, musical voice completely devoid of fear.

I take the seat next to her with a sigh. "Well, Hikari, my name's Vince." I may be a heartless bastard at times, but I won't lie to children. Kids never forget the lies that adults tell them.

"Was that your friend?" She pauses for a heartbeat. "Is he going to die?"

Shit. Talk about getting right to the heart of the matter. "Yeah, he's my friend." One of my only friends in the world. "He'll be alright. Just got hurt is all," I tell her. Sounds to me like I'm trying to convince myself more than anything.

She gives my clothes a pointed once over. "What about you? Are you hurt too?"

I take a look down myself and the cooling, half-dry stickiness against the skin on my legs and stomach registers. A few hours ago, that same cooling, half-dry stickiness was pumping through Satoshi's veins. By now, the blood's soaked deep enough into the threads that it's not even really red anymore. "I, uh, no. No, I'm not hurt." Not on the outside anyway.

She nods a few times, like she understands exactly what I mean. A few minutes pass before either of us talks again. "I saw you on TV."

You hear that sound? Kind of a wet, squelchy popping? Yeah, that's the sound of my mind getting fucking blown. I'll tell you right now: not a fun time. All I can manage is a half-hearted "huh." Hopefully she thinks it was a question.

"Everyone was scared." She turns her head and looks away from me. "But you weren't. Why weren't you scared?"

"I was." Near as I can tell, that's the truth.

"It's not nice to lie." She's still looking at the far side of the waiting room. "You looked like you were having fun." I'm about to tell her that I'm not lying, but she cuts me off before I can get a word in. "Are you one of them?" She glances around in a manner she thinks is discrete and leans in close. "Are you a Black Knight?" she whispers.

She's not quiet enough, though, and the old man flinches. I catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly finds the wall at his side _really_ interesting. "What makes you think that?" I ask Hikari, still staring down the old man, though. You know, just in case he gets any ideas.

"He helped you get away." The way she says it, it's like I'm the little kid and she's the adult. It's pretty obvious that she's seeing right through my attempts at evasion – and who she's talking about; you can hear the capitalization of _He_. "He wouldn't do that unless…"

The old man mumbles something to Hikari about having to use the restroom and walks off. I watch him leave as my stomach curdles. The restrooms are down the same hall as a bank of payphones. I wait for him to turn the corner. "Hikari, I've got a very important question for you." She looks back at me. "That man. Is he your father?"

She hesitates a moment. "No. He's just the man that's sleeping with my mom." Sounds like she's not his biggest fan ever. "He's mean and stupid. He likes to hurt mommy and me."

This just gets better and better. My anger starts building. "Why's he so stupid?"

"He thinks that the Britannians should be in charge."

A fucking Tory. I should have seen this coming. "Stay right here," I tell her as I get up. I've got to get Satoshi out of here before the military or the police show up. The receptionist doesn't look up when I get to the desk and ask her, "Where is the man I brought in?"

"He's in surgery right now, my lord. Room number three."

I have to keep myself from running to the stolen cop car outside. A quick look in the trunk reveals a jacket big enough to hide my rifle and the back of my waistband serves to conceal my pistol. When I get back into the waiting room, Hikari is waiting right where I told her to and the old man is still gone. I give her a "come with me" nod of the head. The two of us walk together towards the surgery wing. At Surgery Three, I stop and take a knee in front of her.

"Alright, Hikari, time for the truth." She looks me in the eye, solemn. She's way too mature for how young she is, and that fucks with me to no end. There's no reason for any child to be this grown-up. "You're right: I am a Black Knight. My friend in here is too. The two of us need to get away before the bad guys get here. Do you understand?"

She goes to nod but stops. "What about mommy and me?"

Shit. "You would be safer if you stayed behind." But I wouldn't have taken her with me if that was my plan and she knows that if the look on her face is any indicator. I stand up and take the pistol out of my belt. "Just keep your head down. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to run, you run."

I open the door slowly and slip in. It opens into a room adjacent to where the surgery is actually taking place. There's a window between the two rooms that takes up most of the wall. Standing in front of that window is a man in a doctor's white coat. His hands shoot up when he sees the gun, even though it's not even pointed at him. He starts babbling, terrified. Probably thinks I'm just some drug-and-racism-fueled Britannian punk looking to kill a few Elevens.

"Shut up," I tell him as I walk into the room. "How soon will he be ready to move?"

The man's professionalism overrides his terror for a moment. "Not until tomorrow night at the earliest. There were fragments in the wound that-"

"Okay, great. Shut up again." I stand next to him at the window, the gun hanging at my side. Looks like they're almost done in there. "Hikari, get in here." She walks in silently and the doctor gawks. Can't imagine he was expecting such a young girl to accompany me. She looks at me like I hold the keys to the future. I would worry about that, but I've got more pressing concerns like, you know, getting us out of here alive.

Holy shit, I hope that'll be as easy to do as it is to say.

I'm about to interrupt the surgery when reality decides I've had a little too much in the way of downtime. Personally, I think I'm due a little more, but you tend to listen when someone uses a hospital's public address system blows your cover worse than you've already done yourself.

_"This is the Britannian military. There is a Britannian fugitive posing as a police officer. If you are approached by this man, do not attempt to intervene. He is a traitor to the Holy Empire of Britannia. Any hospital personnel witnessed helping this man will be treated as accomplices."_

Again. They're doing it _again_. Playing the role of the big implacable evil empire like champs. At least they're not mowing everyone down like they did back at Babel Tower. They're not doing it _yet, _anyway. Here's hoping I can keep this from getting too out of hand.

The doctor's eyes widen even more. "That's _you_?!" he asks, absolutely blown away by the idea. He probably expected me to be taller or something.

I ignore the question and start writing on a nearby clipboard. I train my free hand – that is to say: the one with the gun – on the doc's chest. "Alright, moment of truth." I finish the note and look him in the eyes. "This one's the biggy. What do you think of the Black Knights?" It's a loaded question if I've ever asked one. I mean, hey, I've got a damn gun pointed in his general direction: what's he gonna do, disagree with me?

Not fucking likely.

He stammers something about thinking we're the best thing in the history of ever, but I'm not really listening to him.

"Good. Take this." I rip the page off the clipboard and hold it to him and lower the gun. "Give it to him when he wakes up," I tell him with a nod to Satoshi. The doc nods a few times and starts to look at the note. "Don't read it. You do and you're an accomplice. Stay ignorant and you might just get out of this alive." That gets his attention.

A few more quick scribbles and another tear and he has a second note, this one with a phone number, in his hands. "That one you can look at. Call it in three days from a pay phone and the Black Knights will be happy to pay the bills for that guy in there." The number is for a Burner – a single-use disposable cell phone – used by the head of Finance.

"Hikari, come on." She and I head to the door together and I peek out. No one yet. Good. It kills me inside to have to leave Satoshi behind, but it's the only way any of us are going to see tomorrow; I can't protect myself, Hikari, and him all at the same time without back up. Besides, we've got a few designated rendezvous points just in case of situations like this.

I've heard it said that every battle ebbs and flows – the trick is recognizing when the moment is right or wrong for you to make your move. Unfortunately, the tide's coming in and I forgot my fucking floaties. I can't be too sure about the quality of it, but I'm positive the Brits are setting in a cordon. Probably several. One around the hospital for control of the immediate area. A secondary a few blocks out to make sure no one leaves or comes into the area, is pretty damn likely too. That makes exfil more than a bit tricky, but that's kind of the point.

My other option is to find someplace to hunker down and defend my position. Typically, the advantage goes to the defense in a battle. The most common ratio is 1:3; one defender can effectively hold off as many as three hostiles at any given time. Of course, that ratio is taking things like cover and concealment, supplies, and further back up into account. Guess what I'm fresh out of?

We've got to move.

I take Hikari by the hand and head leave the OR. She lags half a step behind for a little bit, but eventually catches up. I round a corner and damn near run over a Britannian soldier. The three of us spend a good second or two staring stupidly at each other. The soldier recovers first and tries to raise his rifle while hollering that he's found me.

I let go of Hikari's hand and put a snap kick to his knee. It buckles and he drops. Dude's good, though. His rifle's well on its way to aiming at my chest. I use my other leg to kick it to the side. It's a weak hit, but it does the trick: when he fires, the round burrows into the wall.

I fall forward, slamming the guy to the ground on his back, with my forearm pressing down on his throat. He throws – and lands – a few punches at my head, but I keep pushing. From his position on the ground, he can't get very much power behind them. The one that hits square on my ear is a zinger, though. It's not long before his struggles slow and eventually stop. I stand up and grab Hikari again.

She's frozen. I can't say I blame her, honestly. This is probably the closest she's ever been to a fight. At least I can say that it wasn't to the death. Not this time, anyway. "Come on," I tell her, giving her hand a tug. She snaps out of it and nods.

We're starting back down the corridor when the soldier's friends show up at a four-way intersection about 10 meters away from us. I push Hikari back behind the corner and dive after her. Just in time, too, because they open fire without a second thought.

I'm reminded of something that Penrose told me back when we were running counter insurgency ops in the Homeland.

It was one of our easier missions. A mid-level rebel leader had been hit by a car and had been hospitalized for a broken leg. The cops already had him in custody, but we were taking him to our interrogation experts. We were riding up the elevator to his floor. The second the doors slid open, someone opened up at us with a machine pistol.

We took cover on either side of the doors and waited for him to reload. We pulled our pistols out and looked at each other. "God damn it," Penrose said, more resigned than angry. "I hate fighting in hospitals. It's no fun at all."

There was a short lull in the fire before it picked back up. Evidently the shooter had been practiced his mag changes. "Yeah?" I asked, incredulous. "And what _is_ fun to fight in?"

Penrose thought for a second before the fire stopped again. We both popped around the corner the shooter, a woman, was looking at the pistol in her hand like it had betrayed her. Penrose and I shot her twice each. She was dead before she even hit the floor. We run forward and I wrenched the machine pistol from her hands. A shell was jammed in the slide, preventing further firing until the jam was cleared. She was the only one alive on the floor. She had even killed our target.

As we were leaving, Penrose looked at me and said, deadpan, "To answer your question: gardens, electronic shops. Antique stores, but only if they're classy."

"You're one weird bastard. You know that, right?" I asked him with a smirk as we got into the car.

I peek around the corner. One of the soldiers down the hall is reloading while his buddies cover him. They do a damn fine job of it, too, because a few bullets go snapping past my head when I look. Hikari is crying quietly next to me. Shit, this is _not_ good. They're cornering us like rats in a maze. I point my pistol around the corner and start popping off rounds. It's not long before the magazine is empty.

I drop the gun and grab Hikari. We've got to go back the way we came. Hopefully the Brits'll keep in cover for a little bit after that fresh, if short, barrage. I'm practically dragging Hikari in my wake as I haul ass down the hallway. A couple more soldiers show up at the far end of the corridor, shouting at me. No time to think – I dive sideways and slam through a door.

It's a stairwell. We might just have a way out of here. I pick Hikari up and take the stairs two at a time toward the basement. She wraps her arms tightly around my neck.

I have to set her down when we get to the bottom: I need two hands for the rifle I've still got hidden under my jacket. I pull it out and release the bolt. It slides forward with a reassuring snap of metal on metal. I've got about 40 rounds. Better make them count. "We're leaving." I start down the hall at a jog. Hikari has to damn near sprint to keep up, but she'll be fine.

It's not long before we find what I'm looking for: the garage. Best way out of here would be by air, but that's not an option. Going up to the top floors would bring the net in tighter. In an ambulance, however, I've got a chance at sneaking out the bottom.

I kick the door to the garage open and step through, rifle raised. There are only a couple of surprised First Responders standing nearby, smoking beside their ambulance. I aim in their general direction. "Keys. Now," I demand as I take a half-step toward them. They freeze and look at me like I've got a dick growing out of my forehead. "I said give me the fucking keys!"

That gets them moving. They both start digging in their pockets and it's only a matter of seconds before there's a key ring jangling its way across the pavement at my feet. "Hikari, get in." I keep the rifle pointed at them. Have to make sure they behave themselves, after all. She makes her way to the ambulance in silence and crawls up into the cab. Once she's in, I reach down and pick up the keys.

The smokers take off the second I turn toward the ambulance. Good for them. The tires squeal when I jam down the accelerator and we shoot out of the garage. We catch a little bit of air at the top of the ramp. Hikari whimpers a bit and I can hear equipment dancing around and shattering in the back. I turn on the lights and siren as we come around the corner of the hospital. Maybe, just _maybe_, I'll be able to bluff my way out.

There's a checkpoint ahead. I slow down a bit as I get closer. A soldier steps out between the parked police cars and motions for me to stop.

So much for my plan, then. I set my rifle in my lap, pointing at the door, and pull into a slow stop at the checkpoint. The guy's got his hand on the grip of his pistol as he approaches my window. Probably on orders to detain anyone trying to leave the area. That's unfortunate. "Hikari, close your eyes," I say before I roll the window down.

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to-" his bored, rehearsed line is cut short when I shift the rifle up and pull the trigger. A burst of rounds take him in the chest and face. At this range, the bullets pass right through him, carrying trails of blood into the air behind him. He's dead before he hits the pavement. It's messy, but it gets the job done. Hikari starts screaming next to me and I jam down the pedal again. We take off past the checkpoint.

We only make it about a klick before police and military VTOLs are on our trail. I switch off the lights and sirens, hoping that I can shake their visuals, but they'd be beyond useless if they couldn't spot the big white box speeding down an empty street. One of the VTOLs, a military job, jets off ahead of us and lowers to street level, its gun pointed at the cab. I'm certain that this is it.

After all this time, all the running, all the fighting. All the killing. This is how my life ends.

"_Stop the car, Vince,"_ a familiar voice booms from the VTOL's loudspeakers. It's a voice that I'm all too familiar with. _"You wouldn't want me to do anything to your Eleven buddy, would you?"_ I can't stop. I can't get captured, not yet. I have to. I won't leave Satoshi to the Britannian military – to Penrose.

I stop and tell Hikari to stay where she is. Should have known that Penrose wouldn't let me get away that easily.

"_You always were a sucker, Vince,"_ Penrose tells me as I climb out of the ambulance. The street's still deserted, but I can see a few lights on in the buildings. How about it, Britannians? Ready to see the truth of how your great and wonderful nation does its work? Keep watching.

Penrose hops out of the now-landed VTOL and starts toward me. A pair of soldiers dismount after him, carrying someone on their shoulders. I can't see his face from here, but I know it's Satoshi. I curse under my breath. I had been hoping that he was bluffing.

Satoshi's head rolls around loosely on his shoulders. He's still doped up from the meds. "Vince," he croaks. I can barely hear his morphine-slurred speech. "Fuckin' run! Leave me and go!"

"You really should, Vince," Penrose puts in. He says it like we're still friends and it pisses me off. "I mean, hell, you know the shithole I'm about to put you in. I'd rather spend my last few hours on the run than _there_."

"Shut up, Satoshi," I say, letting my anger show in my voice. "Penrose. You let them both go in exchange for me. That's the deal."

Penrose looks at me incredulously. I count three more VTOLs circling overhead while he comes up with his response. "Yeah, no fucking deal there, buddy. I don't give a rat's ass about the girl, but I'm taking you and your fellow terrorist in."

He wants to play hardball, then. I can play too. I lift the rifle and point it at something really important. Not the Britannians – that would be beyond stupid. I put the barrel right under my chin. One twitch of my thumb and my brains turn into mist. "I'll come quietly," I tell him. "Have fun trying to explain to the brass that you let me turn my own head into Swiss cheese."

Penrose actually laughs at this. "Hot damn, Vince. You were a hard bastard before but this? This is pure gold!" He turns to the soldiers and says something to them that gets lost in the distance. It's not long at all before they haul Satoshi off to the side and prop him against a trashcan on the sidewalk. I wait until they're back next to the VTOL to lower the rifle.

Penrose may be a sick sadistic son of a bitch, but he's never been a liar.

I switch the rifle to Safe and set it on the pavement. A good kick sends it bouncing across the pavement towards the Brits. It stops about five meters away and I'm still trying to think of a way out of this shit when Hikari screams, "Look out!"

The next thing I know, my chest is filled with fire and every muscle in my body is seizing. I'm pretty sure I piss myself, but that's hardly my biggest concern seeing as I just got hit with a shock round. You've seen Tazers, right? Same concept, just at a much faster rate of travel and greater distance.

The only way I know that I'm on my back is all of a sudden I'm looking at the grey pre-dawn sky, wedged between a pair of skyscrapers. I can tell that my muscles are still convulsing, trying to relearn how to move correctly. It's not that I feel them so much as my vision shakes every now and then. I'm gasping for breath as my lungs go through the same agonizingly slow process as the rest of my body when Penrose stands above me. For once he looks impassive, almost like he doesn't want to do this.

"What happened to you, Vince?" he asks quietly, almost sadly.

I always thought I'd have something smart to say at a time like this. Some witty little piece of defiant trash-talk that I could spout. As it stands, all I can manage is a sound that's all too similar to someone choking on their own tongue.

This is how it happens, you know. All those people in the Homeland and elsewhere that are on time for work or dinner or whatever one day and the next they're gone like they never existed at all; all the mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers that vanished into the thin air of political prisons. We called them Black Bag Jobs back when I fought for the Empire. Penrose pulls his heel up above my face and his grin comes back. I knew the fucker was enjoying himself. He brings it down, hard, and my head bounces off the pavement as the world fades to black.

And just like that… I'm a ghost.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well then. So much for all my promises from Chapter III, huh? Sorry about that, folks. I cannot begin to tell you how much hassle this chapter gave me. I must've been stuck on page 6 or so (total page count is 18) for about two months. And then I got stuck on page 8. And then the ol' brain started firing again. Anyway, I wanted this chapter to pick the pace up a little thanks to Chapter III taking a much slower direction. Thoughts?

As always, a big thank you to Dark Freddie and Mika Kuruyame for being there to edit this story, put up with my bullshit, and giving me some sorely-needed advice. Another round of thanks goes out to you, the audience. Without you, this story would be meaningless. Anyway, stay tuned for Chapter V. It should be out soon-ish/eventually ™.


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